


Dance in the Dark

by fragilevixen



Series: Into the Shadows [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Aftermath of Torture, Bisexuality, Case Fic, Dark Comedy, F/M, Femme Fatale, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Medical Procedures, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 67,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilevixen/pseuds/fragilevixen
Summary: With the continuing murder trial of Miles, Mulder, Scully, and Max are confronted by the VCU with a case that seems to be mimicking the pattern by their, now infamous, psychopath on trial.*Strictly for timeline use, this is likely post "The Unnatural" due to the reference to July and summer in the episode*Note also – There is a case that is mentioned in this chapter that is not canon-compliant that is only used to connect two sections of the story.***THERE BE SMUTTINESS HERE***





	1. His/Not Hers

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey begins into the darkness...
> 
> *Strictly for timeline use, this is likely post – The Unnatural due to the reference to July and summer in the episode*
> 
> Note also – There is a case that is mentioned in this chapter that is not canon-compliant that is only used to connect two sections of the story.
> 
> ***THERE BE SMUTTINESS HERE***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

 

 

 

_In order for the light to shine so brightly,_

_The darkness must be present._

-Francis Bacon

 

 

5:45 PM, July 10th 1999

Ivy City, Washington DC (Old Industrial Park)

 

                The sun had been out for hours, beating down on the rough, blistered pavement in the former bustling, industrial neighborhood. It had rained off and on since the first of the month in heavy bursts, replaced only by heat lightning and equally potent thunder that rocked the area. DC wasn’t prone to flooding but the less maintained streets looked more like creeks than drivable streets in places and had become breeding grounds for the mosquitoes as the puddles stayed in large surface areas for days. The cracks in the cement were filled with weeds and tall grasses in spots depending on where one traveled along the fences that poorly protected the abandoned, isolated structures that stood like tall ghosts in the light of day. The sun was starting to crest along the edges of buildings as it became half hidden by the taller structures, peeking out along broken windows and partially decaying walls that once stood, proud like soldiers on an untouched frontline readied for a war that hadn’t begun. The years had not been kind to this neighborhood, the signs of urban sprawl and decay clear along with a plethora of graffiti that was best left unseen by the younger eyes.

                It was the seedy underbelly that parents tell their older kids not to look at and pretend that it isn’t there when every teenager is considerably wiser to it, knowing exactly what it is and even why it is there.

                Summer was supposed to be fun but the crimson and velvet purple haired teenager with a Sailor Moon hairpin affixed to the center of her hair, pulling her nearly chin length bangs away from her face, wasn’t exactly thrilled with spending her evening trapesing through the old loading yard alone on any given day let alone doing it alone for the umpteenth time since school had gotten over for the break. She wasn’t used to the least interesting events but had settled for such when everyone decided to ditch her, leaving her to make her way home through the worst part of her. It was the path she knew the best. This was a typical, most well-worn direction that the group took, but taking it alone wasn’t something that anyone would do unless they had a death wish or enjoyed the mentally unhinged, homeless woman with about fifty cats screaming at them. The Simpsons must have gotten their inspiration from somewhere, the neighborhood kids had all concluded, even after having at least three kittens thrown at them while obscene words and gestures were hurled their way by the woman.

                This was the life that their parents never intended on giving them but it certainly provided the most amount of adventure, even under the most frightening of circumstances, and kept every parental figure’s blood pressure skyrocketing over the worry. She was used to this kind of daily discourse but not after a summer rain as she was purposely avoiding soaking her pants and boots in the fresh mud and standing water that lay outside of every building in her way. She nearly biffed it climbing over the fence to cut through the old shipping yard that had experienced a resurgence of overgrowth caused by the absence of the once blossoming industry that resided there, once upon a time. She kicked a few of the stones at her feet and watched them bounce across the deeper cracks and fly across the uneven surface, leading up to the remaining steps that went into a run-down out building that had lost one of the walls to overgrowth, a fallen tree, and a couple of manmade incidents that left the once upright spilling over in a heap like a storybook description of the entrance to the rabbit hole in _Alice in Wonderland_.

                This certainly was no fairy-tale life.

                A nearby car horn’s loud, quite sudden, blaring had her plugging her ears for a long, irritation filled moment as she slid the headphones onto her head and jacked the volume up until she could no longer hear anything but the sound of “In Your Room” by the Bangles echoing in her ears. She tapped her hands on her hips, enjoying the rhythm for a long moment as the subtle bass beat and drums thudded in her ears. It was an escape from the ordinary and she certainly didn’t fall into the category of anything that could be categorized as average and that fact was without a doubt, unquestionable. She took a certain delight in straying from the status quo, even to the type of music that she sought out—most girls her age weren’t actively listening to the Bangles or any other 80s ladies. It was part of her charm, she had decided, as she pulled herself from the moment of contemplation and continued forward with the melody keeping her moving.

                She had walked this path at least a hundred times to cut ten minutes from the walk as she climbed through the pile of bricks at the entrance and ducked under the fallen branch that had been struck by lightning years earlier. It had become oddly routine as she could predict some of the hindrances in the way of the path that a normal person might’ve been encumbered by, but she wasn’t. She treated them like they were nothing more than an extra thing to hop over or duck under with a delicate ease. She wasn’t shy, however, about reflecting on the overall wear and tear on the building as she took a moment to stand still, looking up at the oddly high ceilings, noting the chaotic level, complete mess that had been left of the once prominent storage facility. She inhaled against her better judgement and held back the urge to gag as the odor left behind from years of decay tickled her nostrils in the wrong sort of way. The smell certainly wasn’t doing any favors to the overall vibe on the inside of the building as the stench only seemed to become thicker with time, adding to the general unease that it instilled in the faintest of hearts.

                “Smells like Uncle Joey’s sweaty butt crack up in here,” She didn’t realize she was yelling as she made a face, standing in the middle of the wet floor. “Wait, no, dead road kill and Uncle Joey’s sweaty butt crack…gross.”

                She gagged a little, her late lunch begging to come back up with every passing second, pulling her coat up by her face as the smell was a little overwhelming as she passed by one of the old conveyor belts that had collapsed on itself and tipped on its side. The odor was incredibly pungent and took the literal breath away from her as she tried to simply ignore it, but it became heavier with every step she took toward her normal exit point. She wasn’t used to having to avoid new wreckage but hadn’t been in this particular building after a heavy downpour in ages—and things weren’t exactly as they had been as she shifted her weight over the top of new obstructions. This was not how she wanted to spend the evening and she was already praying that the odor wasn’t the kind that lingered on your clothes long after you’ve left since she could already feel it burning the inside of her nostrils with every inhale. She was starting to feel as though she had been rubbed up on by Pepe Le Pew and his skunky aroma was hanging around every little crevice that he had been touching. To complicate the stinky little situation, the puddles from the rain water were making each, wobbly step a little less comfortable and secure. She felt everything slide underneath of her feet as she took a slightly wide berth toward the hole in the bricks and found herself nearly knee deep in dirty, standing water.

                “Oh my God, it smells like a toilet, it smells like a toilet, it, smells, like, a, toilet!” She flailed and unintentionally splashed water further up the wall and all over her only way out as she reached for the bricks, pulling herself from the stagnant, foul smelling scum she had stepped into.

                The urgency to remove herself from the building was paramount but so was getting her coat off as she perched atop the stack of bricks and tore off the soaked denim jacket with the Sailor Moon logo iron on across the back, the glittery edges all soggy with water. She groaned as it finally came free of her wrists, splattering water and mud all over the place in the process. It was a mess in there and she was completely taken aback by the odor alone, not even factoring in the lack of appreciation for the fluid that now plagued her clothing, as she tossed the jacket over the top of the hole in the wall, letting it land in the grass outside, the dry, feathered tousling noise invading the loud music as she dragged her headphones down to her neck. She had done her makeup that morning, opting for some light sparkles and pink gloss, but the pretty exterior had been completely betrayed by the splashes of thick, dark water as she wiped her face instinctively, doing her best not to make the smell any worse.

                “What in the…” Her peripheral vision focused as she calmed down, the sounds of water dripping off of her elbows and the music vibrating against her skin as she turned her head completely toward the fallen conveyor belt and table, the horror written across her face. “Oh, my God…”

                It took a moment for what lay before her to fully sink in as she looked at the spot and related it back to the smell as the pile of material was so much more than broken down old parts of a machine. She shook her head in disbelief and nearly tumbled backwards, the visceral sight of torn flesh, the quantity of spilled blood, and the entwined bodies with their eyes opened toward the ceiling had her nearly hyperventilating within an instant. The two figures were shrouded by a poorly set up canvas cover, arms entwined, emphasizing that they must have been a couple. Beyond the canvas cover, they were both completely absent of their clothing, with words scrawled into their wounds that she couldn’t stand still long enough to make out as she held back another heavy gag, the bile rising in her belly. No one expects, nor wants, to find something as horrific as this when taking the shortcut through the buildings as the complete terror of the discovery had become thoroughly etched into her brain, making it that much more difficult for her to take her eyes off of them.

                “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening,” There was genuine terror in her voice but she was becoming less concerned with a discovery of the bodies and more with the realization of how pissed off her Mother was going to be that she was, once again, messing around in condemned facilities. “I’m going to be in so much trouble!”

                She was shaking, the inner need for denial coursing through her as she pressed her fingers to her forehead and groaned audibly, realizing that she would have to report this. This all lead straight down the path for the severe reaming that was in store for her once her mother had to pick her up from a police station…again. She wasn’t looking forward to that fate but there wasn’t an alternative without looking and feeling like a total jackass by leaving these poor people to be snacked on by whatever wild little creatures might happen upon it. She couldn’t do it, even if it meant hearing, for the millionth time, that she was going to be shipped to Switzerland for the trouble she was in.

                “What is that?” The dripping on her face from her hand went into the curve of her nose and down her lip, the color catching her full attention as she held her breath and wiped her face again.

                It wasn’t simply normal wetness and instead was thick, almost gelatinous, viscous mixture as she withdrew her hand and stared at the red and brown discoloration all over her skin, shining up at her as the faint light hit it, her awareness heightened as she looked down at the pooling water around her feet. She followed the liquid toward the bodies and realized that their blood had been seeping into the stagnant, standing water and she had unintentionally wiped it all over her face. She wanted to vomit but the only thing that she could do as she stared, blankly, at her own, blood covered hand was begin the start of a lung straining scream that everyone within a one mile radius would’ve, without a shadow of a doubt, heard.

 

 

 

 

Monday, 8:15 AM, July 12th 1999

FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC

 

                Scully flipped the lights on in the basement level office and tossed her purse, keys, and cell phone into the closest chair before setting her coffee down on the desk, her frantic expression already in full bloom as she popped the buttons apart on her business jacket, the sigh filtering through her teeth. She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced down at the poorly buttoned, light purple silk shirt and the realization of why everyone was smiling so big at her when she put creamer in her coffee was painfully obvious as she saw the top of her flesh colored bra sticking out like a sore thumb. She muttered a few expletives under her breath as she redid the buttons while poorly searching through the paperwork, desperate to find the vouchers for the meeting that Mulder and she were due at in just over twenty minutes. She pushed the last button back into place and slid a section of paperwork out of the piled high, poor excuse for an inbox, nearly knocking over her coffee in the process, hoping she had discovered the vouchers as their typical pink color coding stuck out but it was the set she was missing from last month.

                “It’s like a fucking hurricane hit this desk and ate half of the documents before spitting them back out in a random, haphazard order,” Scully picked up the coffee and took a quick sip, nearly dribbling it on herself in the process. “Lets not make a mess before I have to walk into a room full of people, Dana, Christ almighty.”

                Scully picked up the old vouchers and tossed them on top of the filing cabinet while she continued to sip her coffee, her eyes scanning through another stack of files that had been rammed into a partially closed drawer that typically contained the middle alphabetically listed classifications. She put the coffee on the desk and pilfered through each file, putting each one back into the desk where they belonged, growing increasingly irritated with the prospect of not finding the paperwork for the second month running. Her ass was already preparing for the monumental chewing from the review board over their expenditures as she leaned across Mulder’s swivel chair and leaned down toward the little pile of papers that had fallen from the top of the desk, secretly praying that they were the missing papers.

                “I either need longer arms or a flat chest,” Scully grunted as her breasts awkwardly squished against the armrest while she leaned down, her knees sinking into the soft, leatherette cushion.

                The timing couldn’t have been more inopportune, or perfect depending on whom you asked, as Mulder’s big, muscular arms slid around her at the waist, pulling her backwards, coaxing a throaty yelp out of her as she didn’t even hear him come into the room. He stayed silent for a long moment as he kept her knees in place on the chair and swiveled the wheels just enough that they spun backwards, the squeaking of the mechanism nearly as loud as she was as his right hand maneuvered perfectly to cup a breast, firmly squeezing until her back was all the way against his chest. Mulder already had a little hint of sweat forming at his hairline despite the slightly heavy odor of body wash emanating off of him, his hands just as hot as his chest as he slid his thumb down her cleavage, finagling a trail of goosebumps. Scully inhaled sharply, her eyes shutting as she held back the urge to moan and felt the unmistakable heat of his crotch against her backside as he gave her the gentlest of thrusts to let her fully experience what she had clearly inflicted earlier in the morning.

                “Is this what ‘I’ll be right back’ meant, Scully? Ditching me so you could come to the office and leave me naked, all alone, in the shower?” Mulder used the tip of his nose to nudge her hair away from her neck and ear, nibbling and licking the space below her earlobe until he could hear her panting in spite of herself. “What’s wrong? Doesn’t feel good to get teased right now, does it?”

                Scully was already halfway to the point of falling, the back of the chair tilting all the way back as it teetered underneath of her from the extra weight pressing against her, pushing her off balance as she held onto the back of the chair and onto him at the same time, her breaths coming in short spurts. “Mulder, I can’t keep coming into these meetings smelling like sex, sweat, and your shower gel—and we started in at 5:30 this morning. What’s gotten into you?”

                “Say, ‘coming’ again, Scully,” Mulder bit down on a tender spot at the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, nibbling on her collarbone until he could hear a low, frustrated groan leave her trembling lips. “You’re not going to take ownership for any of this, are you? Who showed up at my apartment last night when I let them know I had dinner ready, in nothing but a pair of high heels, nylons, and their overcoat?”

                “Coming…” Scully couldn’t help but smirk and bite down on her tongue to soften the onset of laughter as she tilted her head to look at him, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—I would never do that, Mulder.”

                Mulder’s left hand found her outer thigh and had already hiked her skirt enough that the strips of her garter belt attached to her thigh highs rubbed against his eager fingers, earning a significant grin as his mouth found her earlobe again. “So, Scully, would you be all that innocent if you are now wearing your thigh highs and the garter belt at work knowing that you were intending on leaving me as amorous as I was this morning? Hmmm?”

                “Oh…fuck,” Scully couldn’t hold back the moan as she slipped her right hand over the top of his, digging her finger tips along his skin until her fingers were half laced together with his against her own breast.

                “That was the intention, Scully,” Mulder’s fingers were like heat seekers as he had her skirt nearly high enough to more than discover that she was radiating heat in waves and had started to encourage the risky, easily discovered sexual romp in their office. “Regretting that mean little maneuver leaving me high and dry, aren’t you?”

                They had more than taken their relationship to the next level since the hell that nearly cost them everything; the recovery had been difficult to the point that sleeping at each other’s apartments had become an expected routine that neither could live without. Messing around at work had gone from a strictly forbidden idea to something that was limited to the office, in small, infrequent bursts that often involved shutting the door. Work was no less important but the flirtatious looks were sporadically mixed between stolen kisses, embraces, and heated groping that eventually led to long nights for both of them. Getting caught was something that they did not take lightly and Skinner had stood at the door clearing his throat more than a few times prior to knocking, as if he just knew, deep down, that the touching had gone south.

                A few times he may have been right but it had never seemed to be an issue as long as they were looking the other way.

                “Mulder, please, we don’t have time for this right now,” Scully’s words were conflicting with her actions as she held onto him, rubbing her ass against him with more than a certain amount of intent, licking his bottom lip as she made eye contact.

                “More than enough time to guarantee you won’t pull another ‘be right back’ stunt,” Mulder would rather have kept this at home but he was settling for the chair as he nibbled on her jaw, caressing her a little lower against her abs.

                Scully had known that leaving Mulder in the shower the way that she had was risky but she didn’t think he would be this worked up after the morning had started awfully early. Her choice in attire was certainly a visible mistake, though, as she was wearing one of his favorite combination of undergarments in the thigh highs and garters. It drove him nuts. The way that it made her feel when he was like this with her was nearly as invocative of the amplified passion that he was doing a poor job of harnessing. The other problematic portion of the way that she abandoned him, in a state of undress, ready for round two in the shower, was that she was secretly just as amped up as he was and she was inches from telling him they should have just called in sick today.

                They had strayed that far from reason on certain days and this was one of those days.

                Mulder had become thoroughly enthralled with her mouth as he nudged her lips apart with his bottom lip, sliding his tongue past her teeth until he could create a near perfect meeting between them, his eyes closing as his right hand moved higher, caressing her neck.  Neither one of them were the most convincing when protesting the sexual advances of the other and the heat was at a whole different level for them as the usual line that they had drawn for messing around in the office was trampled completely with the tugging of Scully’s shirt from the careful tuck of her skirt. Scully was a little less capable of moving as Mulder’s hand slid underneath of the thin, soft material of her shirt, groping her through her bra.

                Scully’s range of motion was limited but she reached behind her head and ran her fingers through his hair as she pulled her mouth from his, panting desperately into the air. “Go close the door.”

                “If I close the door, we’re going to be late for that meeting,” Mulder licked her earlobe again, loving the feel of her fingers running through his hair as he manhandled her a little, sliding her thighs backward just enough to where her heels were on either side of his, knees pushed apart.

                “Jesus Christ, Mulder,” Scully gasped as she held onto the chair’s armrest and felt one of her heels slide with an undignified thud to the floor, completing her already perfunctory look with her skirt hoisted almost high enough for her modest, comfortable but cheeky panties to start peeking out.

                The halfway unspoken rule about actually having sex in the office was completely falling by the wayside like a New Year’s resolution as Mulder’s fingers slid along the upper band of Scully’s panties, giving them the most unsubtle of tugs in a downward direction. She had completely thrown the white flag, surrendering to the hedonism entirely as her eyes fluttered shut and her teeth bit down on the corner of her lip. Scully wanted Mulder so much more than he wanted her when he arrived at the office, as she reached back, half tearing at his belt while his very eager, ready hands were reaching a point of no return at the curve between her legs, his mouth hovering against her neck. It was hard for either of them to concentrate let alone move properly as they were groping at each other, the chair half squeaking as Mulder struggled with Scully’s panties.

                “Hey guys, you are going to need your…Jesus Christ almighty!” Max’s voice went from standard and unaware to shocked, sending them both scrambling to wrench Scully’s panties back up and tug her skirt back down. “Do you two even think about closing doors before you start screwing around?”

                “Jeez, Dad, we didn’t know anyone was going to just…walk right in,” Mulder was already joking as he watched Scully awkwardly pull her skirt back down and tuck her shirt in, the sweat beads on her forehead shining in the overhead light.

                “I am not Dad, I’m the irritated little brother who doesn’t want to see any of whatever this was and you should definitely stop before my eyes bleed,” Max started waving his hands around, his perfectly tailored suit contrasting with the sour expression on his face.

                Scully was flustered but had a smile hiding on her lips as she double checked all of her articles of clothing to make sure that nothing was hanging out inappropriately as she refrained from making eye contact with Max right away. “You know, I did say to shut the door…did I not?”

                “It’s been over six months since you two made it abundantly clear that you’re having sex—I would’ve thought that you would’ve stopped with the office shenanigans by now,” Max was giving them more of a lecture than Skinner ever had as he crossed his arms, holding the file across his chest that he carried in with him. “People are starting to talk about it and I’m worrying over how it could affect your reputations.”

                “By people, you mean you and Drea when you go home because you keep refusing to walk nice and loudly down the hallway?” Mulder winked at him and noticed the file in his hand as he adjusted his stance to accommodate the still aching erection pressing against his slacks. “Did you bring us a present, Maximus?”

                “I shouldn’t have to announce that I’m walking down the hallway so you two can pry yourselves off of each other,” Max held the file toward Mulder, nodding in his direction. “Chemical analysis of the substance on the case you’re supposed to be talking to Skinner about…gasoline and kerosene.”

                “Certainly rules out spontaneous human combustion,” Scully was finally a little bit more composed as she peeked around Mulder, glancing at the paperwork, nudging him in the back just a bit.

                “I made that suggestion twice, Scully, just twice…you don’t need to keep dogging me over it,” Mulder’s eyes nearly bugged out as he closed the file and swatted her with the manila, making a little slapping sound across the top of her hand. “Yes, we’ll need this and those vouchers that seem to be missing again.”

                “You mean the ones that are sitting right there underneath of Scully’s coffee cup?” Max pointed toward the clearly labeled documents that were sitting in the middle of the desk, directly under the cup of coffee. “By the way, is there any spot in this office that is safe to sit or stand that hasn’t touched naked ass?”

                “Hers or mine?” Mulder didn’t look up from thumbing through the stack of vouchers after Scully picked up her coffee to take another big drink of it.

                She nearly choked on the halfway hot liquid as the question was asked, the idea of it sending a shockwave through her as she held back a laugh. “Mulder, you’re going to make him mad again.”

                “I am quickly regretting even asking that question,” Max sighed and crossed his arms, the sleep in his eyes visible as he glanced at the ceiling for a moment. “Don’t you two have somewhere to be?”

                “Now he sounds like Skinner,” Mulder teased Max as he finished the rest of his own coffee and tossed the empty disposable cup into the trash. “You look tired, Max, are you getting enough sleep? Getting kept up all night? Woke up early?”

                Scully walked up beside Mulder and took a long, scrutinizing look at Max, noticing the little bags under his eyes as well, the visible lack of sleep apparent despite their joking tone. “Wow, you really do look like you haven’t been sleeping, Max…do you want to talk about it?”

                “It isn’t what you think it is and you’re both so disgusting,” Max rolled his eyes, knowing that they were both intimating that he was engaging in a lot of long nights due to crazy romps with Drea, flipping the switch to a considerably more serious topic. “Her night terrors have been pretty bad lately and instead of not remembering them when she wakes up, she’s been recalling every, awful detail. We’re both pretty lucky if we get three hours of sleep a night as a result.”

                “Max, her mental scars are far deeper than mine and I’m still having my rough spots, so I can’t imagine what her recovery has been like. It’ll get easier with time, just keep her talking about it, and don’t give up on her,” Scully could tell it was bothering him because he felt helpless and not because of being robbed of sleep as she gave him a quick pat on the shoulder.

                “The last good night of sleep we had was after going out for drinks, getting talked into dancing, and coming home a little inebriated and exhausted,” Max didn’t realize that he had unintentionally given Mulder a vivid mental picture while recollecting a perfectly innocent, run of the mill night out. “I have two left feet so it was more like watching her look good on the dance floor.”

                “You voyeuristic, naughty little science nerd,” Mulder watched the pink form in an instant all over Max’s face as he realized how easily that could have been taken the wrong way.

                “That’s not what I meant, Mulder!” Max instantly scrambled as Scully maneuvered toward the door, leaving both men face to face with undeniably hilarious looks on their faces. “We haven’t even really crossed that bridge…shit, I shouldn’t have let that out of the bag in front of you, of all people.”

                “I don’t think my brain caught up with that entirely yet…did you just intimate that you and Drea haven’t…really?” Mulder had both eyebrows raised as his voice was slowly going a little higher with every word, not believing it.

                “What is so hard to believe about that? It took you two a lot longer than six months to break the seal,” Max was skirting around the word ‘sex’ like it was a naughty word and Scully could see the visible discomfort written across his face as though he had been thinking about it without wanting to.

                Scully sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, grabbing Mulder by the wrist. “As much as you seem to be thoroughly entertained by teasing Max about the details of his sex life, or apparent lack thereof, we do have to get our butts to Skinner’s office before we get a phone call.”

                “Oh come on, it isn’t a lack thereof, it has just hit a…snag, Scully,” Max was already following after Mulder pulled the door shut, the paperwork shifting from Mulder’s hands to Scully’s as she took another sip of her coffee while they walked toward the elevator. “Wait, why am I even rationalizing the speed at which my relationship is moving to you two anyway?”

                “You don’t need to keep doing it, Max, I swear, we’ll stop,” Scully smirked as they waited for the elevator to open.

                “Oh, sorry, my presence was apparently requested so, ta-da, here I am,” Max made eye contact with Scully as they went into the elevator. “He called me this morning asking about the chemical analysis and said he wanted me in the meeting.”

                “Are you a party trick, buddy?” Mulder elbowed him and winked over at Scully. “These meetings are pretty dry and not the humorous kind.”

                Scully half rolled her eyes at Mulder as she pressed the floor they needed and waited for the doors to shut. “Well, it could be that there was so much more forensics and analytical data that he wants to go over this time that it’s better if you’re just there to explain it for everyone?”

                “Or you’re in trouble…” Mulder smirked, leaning against the back of the elevator between them, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he took the folder and vouchers back from Scully.

                Max wrinkled his nose at the idea and glanced at both of them, huffing a little, breathy sigh. “Stop trying to stress me out—It’s bad enough that this Grand Jury thing has my desk looking like one of you have been setting up camp in there for days.”

                Scully felt a knot in her stomach over the mere recollection of the Miles Miller case as the doors opened and glanced at Mulder for a moment before walking into the hallway. “Well, that might have to be a discussion we have away from this building—you’re not in trouble, Max, that’s Mulder’s job.”

                “You are headed down a dangerous path, Agent Scully,” Mulder shook his head at her and looked down the hallway at the amount of people watching his every move. “Max, don’t let me forget that she’s in for it.”

                “Whatever ‘it’ is and don’t elaborate, I’d like to keep the morning coffee down,” Max cringed as they went around the corner toward Skinner’s office, the hint of red hair from Arlene visible from behind her desk.

                “Are you sure you don’t want the details?” Mulder pushing his luck and met an elbow in the ribs from Scully as they walked into the doorway.

                “Good morning, Arlene,” Scully caught a semi-brutal, annoyed stare from Skinner’s secretary as she elevated a single eyebrow at them, uncrossing her legs while she leaned back in her chair.

                “You know I can hear everything you say in that hallway before you walk in here, right?” Arlene  put her elbows on the desk and perched her chin against her palms, popping a smirk on her lips as she glanced at the phone for a second. “Luckily, for you, I’m not an office gossip like Kersh’s assistant.”

                Scully wasn’t necessarily the best with awkward conversation but it was as though she had been prepping the comeback line for months as she held back a laugh, lowering her voice. “I’ll tell these two to keep their incessant flirting to a minimum, Arlene.”

                “Oh, that’s cute, Scully, that’s just so cute,” Mulder shook his head as they were all standing at the front edge of her desk. “Pile it on…you’ll regret it.”

                “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself, Mulder,” Max felt like being a little bit of a bastard back as he nudged him between the shoulders and watched Mulder’s eyes nearly roll all the way back. “There are ladies present.”

                Arlene held the receiver to her ear and was holding in her own laughter now as she made an affirmative noise before putting the phone back down. “You can go in now, he’s ready for you…wipe your smirks off your faces, jeez.”

                Mulder and Max walked into the room first but Arlene cleared her throat just loud enough to capture Scully’s attention. Scully looked at Mulder with an apprehensive face but kept her position next to the desk, slowly turning toward Arlene, who had stood up and adjusted her stance closer to where Scully was standing. It was awkward and that entire like about not being a gossip was falling on deaf ears for Scully as she made eye contact with a woman who seemed to be burning a hole through her with her very inquisitive stare. It was unnerving to say the least and Scully was bad with situations such as these.

                “Something wrong, Arlene?” Scully could hear the masculine chatter going on in Skinner’s office as she put her hand on the edge of Arlene’s desk, hoping desperately that she wasn’t the chatty kind of woman.

                Arlene was, indeed, one of the less irritating of the secretary class since they seemed to operate on a whole different level when it came to information, opting to spread information via what was most scandalous not by the level of importance. “I just wanted to see how you were feeling—I know that it’s been several months since the attack but with the trial, I’m sure that the wounds have been opening up a little bit more. You don’t always have to keep things bottled up like all of these men seem to think is appropriate simply because you’re surrounded by them all of the time.”

                Scully was choosing her words fairly carefully, pressing her lips together for just a moment while keeping her voice fairly low. “It’s really kind of you to ask. I’m doing fine, Arlene, shockingly. I have a good support network around me that keeps everything balanced where I am not always able, I suppose.”

                “Agent Scully, I know you don’t know me all that well and my opinion probably doesn’t mean a whole lot but I hear a lot through the walls and I see a lot from how everyone here interacts with each other—you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Arlene kind of hung on the words like she was afraid to ask and be told that she was crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed. “Agent Mulder is the reason why things are better now, isn’t he? I mean, if I may intrude to even ask…”

                Scully didn’t have to answer her; she simply allowed a glimpse of a smile to pass over her as she started into the office, pleasantly regarding Arlene with an assuring nod but not necessarily an obligatory nod. Arlene was a very smart woman and knew that there was more to that expression than Scully would typically lead in with but something definitely had changed about her since taking that momentous leap with Mulder. She closed the door to Skinner’s office behind her as she entered the space, joining Mulder, Max, and Skinner in the room. Part of her was expecting Kersh to be present but Skinner was the only advisory member present.

                “Everything ok with Arlene?” Mulder leaned over, his voice low.

                “Yeah, we’re good,” Scully didn’t think about the gesture as she squeezed his hand instinctively, ignoring potential consequences as she made eye contact with Skinner.

                Skinner cleared his throat and opened the file in front of him, setting aside the documents that were in front of him into two spots to start reading through chemical analysis. “Kersh would normally be here to oversee the execution of a review of a case but he is currently assisting in a few other cases and told me to just forward my notes at the end of this meeting today. Max is here for three reasons—he needs to be briefed on the ongoing Miller proceedings, the chemical analysis was part of the profile that lead to an arrest of a suspect, and a development that involves a change in personnel.”

                Max felt his tie squeezing his neck as he swallowed hard, causing him to fidget in his chair as he glanced at Mulder and Scully before making eye contact with Skinner again. “Change in personnel, Sir? Should I be concerned?”

                “We’ll get to that,” Skinner had a blank expression and gave nothing away as he thumbed through a set of papers, the studying glances sending a painfully awkward air of silence through the room. “The chemical analysis that you’ve brought supports an accelerant used for the four arson fires matches the chemical composition that was under the nails of each of the victims that managed to not be completely incinerated in each crime scene. The profile that Agents Mulder and Scully put together lead us to the arrest of former firefighter Harris Jensen and his DNA does match the skin cells that were mixed in with the accelerant mixture.”

                “Jensen was still under volunteer status and he was essentially starting the fires so he could be the first responder to the scene, look good despite having his paid ladder company essentially force him to retire early,” Mulder glanced at Scully before looking across to Skinner.

                Scully nodded, recalling the rather quick investigation that had Mulder confronting a part of himself that he didn’t particularly enjoy. “There were 11 victims separated between the four homes and each household was staged to look like appliances had simultaneously failed. The common error that Jensen made between each crime scene is that the restraints he used on the victims was made of steel and the melting point wasn’t even touched.”

                “The accelerant was poured into the mouths, ears, and poured from the scalp down, they are the origination point in each and every crime scene. It corresponded directly with Mulder and Scully’s profile of a narcissist who wants to inflict the greatest amount of pain and look as though he’s the closest to being the hero as one could be—without leaving survivors,” Max spoke up, his matter-of-fact energy capturing the attention of Skinner, who seemed to be very impressed with his ability to give the information without hesitating.

                “That same profile has given the edge to us and to the rest of the investigatory team in handing information over to the District Attorney’s office to fully evaluate the case further. We are directly working with the DA to keep Jensen behind bars rather than in a mental institution where he can access an abundance of information to continue the sick obsession with significantly less restrictions,” Skinner slid the file off to the side and laced his fingers together, taking a moment to stare at his hands as he looked for the words. “The discussion about the District Attorney brought up the Grand Jury case.”

                “You don’t seem the least bit comfortable or pleased to be discussing this with us, Sir,” Mulder knew that they could potentially be receiving news that they didn’t want to hear and the trial had hit a snag, that it wasn’t going nearly as smoothly as things would indicate from the outside.

                “Depositions are showing that the jury selection has been poor, at best, in gathering a case against Miles. His attorneys are attempting to build a serious push for the insanity plea due to the testimony by Drea and by you, Agent Scully,” Skinner swallowed the rising vomit as he felt the uncomfortable stare from the woman across the desk from him. “The DA and their team is doing everything to prevent that.”

                “Pre-meditation is not insanity…it’s pre-meditation. He watched Scully for months, waiting for the moment to strike,” Mulder was incensed in an instant and the amorous man was no longer present in the room as he clenched his fists, bit down on his cheek.

                Scully had done it again as she reached across and squeezed Mulder’s arm, mainly to calm him down as her shockingly untroubled tone caught Skinner completely off guard. “What do they need from me to make this stick? I can go back on the stand if necessary—I will not allow that man to walk the streets again and I will do whatever it takes to guarantee that he will never be able to put his hands on another woman for the rest of his miserable, little life.”

                Mulder glanced down at her hand and covered her fingers with his own as his posture softened and he followed the line of her arm until he met her adjusted gaze as she started to exhale. “You don’t have to do this again—you don’t know what it might do to you.”

                “Even contemplating that there’s a chance of his attorneys succeeding and he’ll be in a minimal security mental institution over a maximum security prison for the rest of his life has me more worried than the temporary battle wound that I will need to open,” Scully wasn’t wavering as she inhaled a deep breath, holding in the emotion.

                “It’s going to take more than a simple testimony from you and that is where this is going to be difficult,” Skinner skipped right to the point as he adjusted his tie and scooted backwards. “The proposed insanity plea has a lot more than details about your testimony. It’s widespread and I am doing my best to keep it from blowing completely out of proportion. Everything is hinging on proposed mental games inflicted by Agent Scully and Drea—they’re attempting to out your personal lives as collateral damage within the arguments.”

                “How is any of that relevant?” Mulder was taken aback at the idea of his relationship with Scully being used as a playing piece for Miles’s case as he chewed the edge of his tongue to hold back the flood of anger that was trying to come out. “I thought that utilization of facts was the only way that someone could prove insanity not implication of supposition.”

                “He continues to inflict as much damage as he can from behind bars, Mulder, and I am so tired of letting him check us and scrambling to make the next move,” Scully stood, the air in the room significantly warmer than it needed to be as she paced behind their chairs. “The checkmate is in that there won’t be any ‘no comment’ or ‘next question, please’…he can’t prove any of the accusations beyond what everyone else knows.”

                “They can’t publicize this line of interrogation, Agents, that’s the one saving grace,” Skinner knew where she was going with it. “They have to do this in front of a panel—and that panel has to be made up of your peers, the District Attorney, and his team of lawyers aside from the judge. That’s the stipulation that the judge has agreed to given the sensitive nature of the questions.”

                “Backing him into a corner of his own poorly thought lies,” Max turned and looked at Scully as she stood with her hands on the back of the chair she had been sitting in.

                “He’ll hang himself looking for ways to inflict pain while his team of idiots looks for the nearest door to run straight for the hills when they realize exactly what he is doing,” Scully looked at Mulder, her knuckles white. “Because a psychopath isn’t trying to be free—he’s trying to destroy anything within his ability to do so.”

                “I will take care of it but you had to be aware of the situation that was brewing because, I’m sure, that the news will get wind of it since they seem to know every little detail of this case literally as quickly as we can relay it within our own walls,” Skinner was gesturing for Scully to sit back down as he could tell that she was completely pensive in her stance. “That’s not the entirety of this meeting and everyone needs to be sitting down for this.”

                “Here comes the ‘you’re in trouble’ part,” Mulder was bracing himself as Scully sat back down, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

                Skinner pulled another file from his stack of paperwork and shot Mulder a dirty look. “Violent Crimes sent over a case this morning that has been giving them some issues—it went across Kersh’s desk first, who forwarded it to Special Agent King, who then forwarded it to me. The recommend has been made that you take a look at it, see if you can decipher a solid enough profile from the clues and put a stop to this killer before it becomes classified as a serial killing.”

                “What made them decide to include our office? The violent crimes unit doesn’t exactly have an abundance of cases that fit the bill of an X File,” Mulder wrinkled his nose at the idea, focusing his thoughts on the new development in front of them.

                “They were particularly impressed with the profile on Miles and your ability to neutralize him with a certain level of skill and speed with consideration to all things. Most of these killers leave no survivors and there were multiple survivors in large part to the great care and investigative skill involved in this,” Skinner set the file onto the desk and opened it. “Max has been formally requested to be in the field if we carry out an investigation.”

                “Wait, what?” Max’s back went rigid as he created space between the back of the chair and his body, scooting forward just enough as his voice elevated. “Why was I requested for the case?”

                “Max, this is a good thing—your expertise in the scientific aspect will give the investigation a new view and Agent Mulder and Agent Scully attributed some of the patterns on the Miller case to suggestions that you made,” Skinner knew that Max was more uncertain of the enormity of a change like this but the reaction was almost humorous.

                “You haven’t given them the yes or no yet on whether we would be able to help?” Scully was curious as the cautionary Skinner was typical but not to this degree as she brought them back to the subject at hand.

                Skinner was silent for a moment as he gathered the words, doing his best not to look at the photos that were sticking out from underneath of the informational leaflet in the file folder. “The victims thus far are three couples—2 married couples, 1 engaged. The cause of death for the three females have been the same, an arterial air embolism.”

                “Air embolism?” Scully was completely intrigued as she crossed her legs, wrapping her mind around the idea of a quick, albeit painful way to die. “Okay, call me curious.”

                “The first couple was the most difficult to figure out because they went missing just over three months ago and their bodies were not discovered until forty-five days ago so there was a considerable amount of time that passed—most of which was during decomp. The second and third couple had considerably less time between the date they went missing and the date they were dumped,” Skinner thumbed through the autopsy summaries of the female victims. “Their only other wounds were from defensive marks—the usual scrapes, bruises, and minor cuts.”

                “The male victims?” Mulder’s wheels were already turning, the foregone conclusion that they would be investigating the case was already flowing through his brain. “I feel like we’re about to get hit with some information that might make Max and me uncomfortable.”

                “It made all of the men in the room a little uncomfortable, Mulder, when the briefing came to the office,” Skinner pulled the second file open and folded the summary apart. “All three men died from excessive blood loss and multiple lacerations to the muscular tissues—no specific pattern between them aside from the final cut to the femoral artery. The level of trauma that the male victims experienced was that of extended torture prior to death.”

                “One would almost assume they weren’t related if they hadn’t been discovered together?” Mulder could already half picture at least one of the deaths despite not visually looking at a photograph yet, the little pieces of missing information blurring as he glanced at his own lap, contemplating  the possibilities.

                “You’re dangling portions of this case knowing we’re already piecing little bits of it together, aren’t you?” Max didn’t really like playing games but the strategy that Skinner was employing was gauging whether or not they all could handle another trauma based case again.

                “I’m just going to put it out there, and it’s strictly off the record, because everyone in this room and the next one knows what I know about the people in this room—the trauma of the Miller case may not have been a driving force in the bonds that formed outside of these offices but it certainly assisted in cementing how close you’ve stayed,” Skinner leaned back in his chair. “You know as well as I do that you have relied on one another significantly more than you did prior to the Miller case. Even my secretary can tell that things are different.”

                “Point taken,” Scully was the voice of reason as she looked directly at Skinner, the steel color of her eyes shining as the light hit her at just the right angle. “What I do know, though, Sir, with all do respect, is you can’t keep shielding any of us from exposure to trauma. That’s part of this job.”

                “We’ve gotten a little better at putting each other in check due to the trauma we’ve already experienced,” Mulder knew that the potential for the darkness swallowing them up again was always lingering as he could see her looking at him in his peripheral. “Having Max on our team means that we’ll have someone that knows when we’re going too far, right, Scully?”

                “Exactly,” Scully nodded, looking over at Mulder then Max. “We are still heavily influenced by the Miller case simply from the ongoing court battle but some of those pieces may never leave. That’s a fact that has to be faced. I’m not giving up on my life because of it.”

                “The detail that I have kept close to the vest is the fact that, while the three male victims exhibited different causes of death from their three female victims—both were stripped, posed, and post mortem carved into,” Skinner pulled the photos from the files and turned them toward Mulder, Scully, and Max. “Carved into the rib and stomach region of the female victims was the word ‘his’ and on the same region of the male victims the words ‘not hers’ were similarly etched into the flesh.”

                Scully gathered the photos, fixated on the post mortem mutilation with the words across their skin, a calling card that had been utilized in some of their own casework as well as more famous elements like the Manson killings. There was something definitive about the twist on the classic “his” and “hers” in a way that had her already formulating a rather lengthy set of motives, along with a myriad of reasons why these men would’ve been a target, why they were chosen. The lack of clothing was obvious to all of them as they looked at the most exposed, vulnerable, and weakened state that they could possibly have been in. The killer had taken away their ability in both life, and death, to hide away their most private of secrets.

                “Did they find any DNA that didn’t belong to the victims on any of the body? Semen? Other bodily fluids? Saliva?” Mulder thumbed through a small stack of the photos, noticing how pristine the appearance the bodies of the female victims actually were.

                Skinner glanced through the reports and shook his head. “Traces of latex on the male victims but nothing significant – they were all sterilized pretty heavily prior to being disposed of so organic material was destroyed.”

                Max had been quiet for a while as he looked through the photographs, his wheels turning as he switched the pure science to the back burner and looked through his investigational eyes. “Did they obtain a true time estimate on dump to discovery? This level of decomposition is pretty far gone and you can’t even tell that they have been carved into aside from the marks in the bone layer.”

                “You three already made up your mind?” Skinner almost had hoped that they had allowed some of their intensity to take a backseat as he made eye contact with each of them, the sigh imminent as he reached for the phone. “I’ll make the call.”

 

 

 

11:45 PM

The Black Cat Nightclub

Washington DC

 

                The interior of the room lured you in from the second that you walked in—from the eccentric black and white checkerboard flooring to the lowish ceiling, the hum of the music, the “Red Room” sign above the bar beckoning you to find the nearest bar stool to plant your backside. The underlying odor of sweat was always prevalent along with the intoxicating level of various body sprays and deodorants that had started to blend from one body to the next. It isn’t the kind of sweatiness that makes one think of unwashed gym clothing but of bodies in perpetual motion, swaying back and forth to a unified beat. It was halfway savage, animalistic even, as the music that played often directed the motion of the crowd and was the beating heart of the building that served as the driving force for motion and thirst alike. This was less of a place to listen to the random band and more of a place to scope out the non-existent nightlife that lived for the average Rock or Grunge music fan. It kept you interested, kept one looking at each of the face of the next wildly dressed individual that dragged themselves through the blacked out doors ready to find a good time with someone that had arrived with you, or someone that hadn’t.

                It lead her there, after all.

                “Hop in here and get a drink before I can’t hear you anymore, Red,” the Bartender’s voice brought her out of her hypnotic trance as she followed the multi-colored, bouncing lights on the floor.

                She turned her head, the long, flowing red hair cascading down her shoulder, covering the ample cleavage in the polka dotted, halter dress, her makeup perfectly done as she winked at him. “Jack and coke…light ice? Float a little cherry juice for me, love?”

                “You’re almost Bettie Paige in that get-up and requesting a cherry coke and Jack Daniels only makes the image a little more vivid,” She was impressed with his ability to catch the reference for a pin-up legend with her clothes as she crossed her legs while he mixed her drink.

                “I don’t think the divine pin-up Goddess ever wore bright, red hair like mine but thanks for noticing,” Her long legs were all the more flattered by the knee length cut of the dress and the pretty, matching red peek-a-boo heels that rested against the edge of the stool next to her.

                The bartender slid the drink in front of her and found himself significantly entranced in the long, dark lashes of the tall, perfectly manicured woman thumbing her through a shiny, little purse for her cash. She hadn’t fully made eye contact with him but her smokey eyelids and long, voluminous eyelashes had him enchanted as he stared a little longer than intended until her chin lifted, renewing their visual contact. The long, straight, red locks were simply the capper on a look that had him mystified—she looked nothing like the majority of women that walked into this venue and it was pretty refreshing in so many ways. If she hadn’t been wearing so much makeup, the blush on her cheeks would’ve been visible but she pressed her perfectly red, glossy lips together and brushed her hair away from her shoulders, sitting taller while she reveled in the attention.

                His eyes weren’t the only ones lingering over her as an equally attractive individual had been sitting at the opposite end of the bar, completely alone like herself, was drinking in the sight of her like he had been weeks without hydration. He was regarding her with a little too much obviousness as he slid his own money clip back into his pocket, his eyebrow raised as he watched each little curve of her, desiring to see some little hint of a twitch of a muscle group as his eyes lingered over her from the ankles up. He even licked his lips as he watched her check the thigh high nylons beneath the dress without a second thought for anyone witnessing just how high she had just slid her dress. It was titillating, to say the least, and he didn’t even know that it was all incredibly methodical and deliberately done. She knew that he was looking as she glanced at him through her peripheral while she captured the tip of the straw with the curve of her tongue, sucking the sweet liquid with a certain exaggeration.

                She smiled as she purposely diverted her attention to the bartender, who had wandered back in her direction as she let the straw loose from her lips. “Hey, handsome…what’s your name?”

                He gave her a little glimmer of a smile, the pearly white teeth peeking from behind his narrow lips and well groomed goatee that hid remnants of acne scars. “It’s Christopher...What’s yours, Red?”

                “What ever you want it to be,” She gestured Christopher to her, a sly grin on the corner of her lips as she leaned onto the bar top, subtly pushing her drink to one side just a little bit.

                Christopher wasn’t wise to the tricks of a woman but he was lured in by her eyes and lips in equal measure as she barely reached out, gathering his collar within her fingers. She didn’t hesitate and he didn’t resist as she pulled him to her, giving him one of those kisses that strangers aren’t supposed to have the ability to give. He was enjoying the searing heat from the lips of a redheaded stranger while she was keeping her eyes open, peering at the stranger at the other end of the bar for only a moment while her tongue dotted past Christopher’s teeth. She made his head swim in an instant and it was over before he could even think as she slid backwards, placing a decent sized tip against the top of the bar. The look Christopher gave her was that of a puppy craving seconds but she simply wiped the corners of her mouth, gathered her drink and slid off of her barstool, leaving both men caught somewhere between breathlessness and confusion.

                With her glass between her fingers, she moved toward a darker, more concealed part of the nightclub with a more lounge feel, settling against the wall near a section of booths. It was poorly lit but her hair would’ve given her away in nearly any light, even in the dark, as the dark haired stranger that had been staring at the bar was still fully invested in watching her from across the room. Her eyes scanned the room again, noting that she truly was a unique looking female in the grand scheme of things with most of the women being fairly low maintenance in comparison to her. She smiled, realizing that half of them had been staring at her with little devil glares until she looked in their directions…and then, it was as though you were their favorite person in the room. She glanced back in the stranger’s direction, keeping her expression muted aside from the hauntingly green eyes that seem to glow with every look, every little stare. She tapped her heel to the rhythm of the music and pressed her shoulders against the wall as she watched him do his best to stalk his way toward her. She raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the stage, half ignoring him as he walked up to her and gave a little nod to capture her attention.

                “So what’s a gorgeous creature like you doing all by yourself in a dive like this?” He had an incredibly deep voice to match his dark, brown eyes and hair, the clothing not matching the vibe of the environment as he had on a pair of expensive jeans and an equally high priced button down.

                She shrugged her shoulders and spotted the tan line on his left ring finger, increasing the smile perched on her lips, letting her glass barely touch her mouth. “Well, I suppose I’m a sucker for really good music and I prefer things to be a little gritty and dirty…don’t you?”

                “Depends on what we’re talking about?” He was already reeled in and he didn’t even know it as he leaned against the edge of the booth beside them, purposely standing in front of her, taking a swig of his Disaronno on the rocks.

                Her eyes kept full contact with his, slowly blinking as she spun her straw in her drink, the red swirl of her lip color around the top of the straw capturing his attention for a moment as she took another sip before speaking. “Well, sex, for one is more fun when it’s dirty…wouldn’t you agree, Mister…?”

                He practically choked on his drink as he wasn’t expecting her to be so forward, the burn of the alcohol making his voice come out in a deep rasp for a moment. “Henderson, Justin Henderson…and your name is?”

                “That’s a great name…Mr. Henderson,” She glanced at her glass for a second, looking him nearly eye to eye as she stood with her back against the wall. “You can just call me Baby.”

                “Your name is Baby or you preferred to be called Baby?” Justin couldn’t have denied that his head was already swimming as he contemplated her curves again, concentrating heavily on the paleness of her skin tone and the ample slope of her cleavage.

                “Sure,” She knew the answer wasn’t assisting him in reaching a conclusion as she pulled the front of his shirt toward her, rubbing her knee against the inside of his thigh as she eclipsed the space between them. “So, Mr. Henderson, you want to get out of here with me?”

                “Absolutely—where did you have in mind, Baby?” Justin took both of their nearly empty glasses and set them on a nearby table as she stood a little straighter, giving him a hint of her full height.

                She didn’t speak, she simply beckoned him to her, ushering him to the back exit, giving him the smallest of teases of a kiss before they pushed the door open, disappearing into the night.


	2. Vortex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the continuing murder trial of Miles, Mulder and Scully are confronted by the VCU with a case that bears strikingly similar patterns by their, now infamous, psychopath on trial. 
> 
> A new face within the group becomes the chaos as old wounds open.
> 
> Looming darkness -- spiraling out of control, ready to swallow you up, ready to be in control.
> 
> *Strictly for timeline use, this is likely post – “The Unnatural” due to the reference to July and summer in the episode (and there will be small mentions of Monday through Milagro for contextual purposes and some story premise but only in very brief detail throughout the following chapters)*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)
> 
> There are some slightly obscure references to popular culture (TV/movies) and literature, please let me know if you'd like more information. I'd be happy to provide it.
> 
> Warnings: Graphic display of violence, mild trigger necessary

 

 

_In a world of diminishing mystery,_

_the unknown persists._

-Jhumpa Lahiri

 

 

7:15 AM, Tuesday, July 13th

FBI Headquarters – Washington DC

 

                The air in Mulder and Scully’s office was a little stale and smelled of coffee and croissants, the shuffling of paperwork and the gentle squeaking of chairs as they shifted against the flooring. Scully sat in Mulder’s chair, her left knee tucked under her right knee as she held a folder in her hand, silently examining the work in front of her. Mulder was sitting in a chair at the side of the desk, his legs angled forward almost all the way against the desk as he leaned back periodically, bumping into the filing cabinets. They had been behaving themselves within the confines the FBI since the news had circulated of the new case and they didn’t want anyone walking in on them again in any event, keeping the contact to a minimum. Max came back into the room, carrying a small stack of paperwork with him. It had been quiet for quite some time and the tension in the room was high as they were focused every bit of their available energy on the new developments on the Miller Grand Jury along with this case that had been plopped into their laps by the VCU.

                “So, when exactly are we supposed to be meeting this Agent King?” Mulder picked up his coffee, cradling the mug up by his mouth as he set the paperwork on his lap, precariously balancing everything as he eyed the still hot liquid dancing in front of him.

                Scully tilted her arm up to glance at her watch, taking her focus off of the file between her fingers, mildly stunned as she realized they had already been sitting there for just shy of an hour. “7:45…another thirty minutes?”

                Have either of you met Agent King before because I’m not sure that the name is completely ringing a bell?” Max wrinkled his eyebrows and looked through the paperwork after chewing on a piece of croissant. “What division did they come up from and why would the VCU put this across their desk?”

                “I haven’t met her but before we left yesterday I asked about where she came from. Skinner said that she is an active Agent from the Information and Technology Branch, specializing in creation of patterns for the wanted lists. She also leads task force divisions after wanted lists are distributed,” Mulder didn’t think anything of it as he leaned forward, snagging a croissant and discarding the file onto the desk for a moment.

                Max looked a little pale while Mulder was talking and nearly spilled his coffee all over himself as he went a bit rigid in his chair, glancing at the floor. “Did you just say that she came from the ITB?”

                Mulder ripped the croissant in half and passed the other half to Scully, glancing at Max in the process. “Yeah, I did…she’s been in the ITB for a couple years now. Why do you ask?”

                Scully took a bite of the piece from Mulder and looked over at Max, who had completely lost the typical flicker of color in his face. “Max, are you ok? You don’t look well at all.”

                “Ummm, would that be Agent Ava King, by any chance, Mulder?” Max put emphasis on her first name before taking a much needed sip of the coffee, hoping that Mulder would say ‘no’ and he could move on with his day.

                Scully still had a file in her hand and thumbed through until she found a signature. “Well, she signs her paperwork with an A. King so there’s a pretty good chance that the A stands for Ava, Max.”

                “Well, that croissant isn’t going to settle on my stomach quite so well now,” Max was fidgeting, the paleness of his skin replaced with closer to a green color as the coffee still in his cup was making his stomach turn at the sight. “It just had to be Ava fucking King, didn’t it?”

                “Maximus, you’re going to have to clue Scully and me in on this one because you look like you’re caught somewhere between puking and screaming,” Mulder looked over at Scully, raising his eyebrow at her as she closed the file in her hand. “Haven’t seen a reaction like that since you with—”

                “Be careful, Mulder, you know what happens when you bring that woman up,” Scully cut him off as he was about to bring up Diana’s name in a semi-casual, mildly work-oriented conversation. “Max, is there something you’re not telling us because we’re going to be working with Agent King pretty closely on this case and we can’t have drama right off the bat…Clue us in.”

                Mulder held back a laugh as he watched a pensive little glare from Scully as she slid her leg out from underneath of her body, as she crossed her leg and straightened her back. “You know I like it when you’re angry.”

                “Oh, I’m sure you do,” Scully rolled her eyes and continued giving that worried look in Max’s direction, refusing to let him stay silent. “Come on, you can’t pull that silent crap in here…and you know it.”

                Max was fiddling with his cup, the liquid spinning with every move he made as he almost didn’t want to make eye contact. “Ava and I dated during college for two full years plus an additional six months into Quantico. She was easily the reason why it took forever and a day to allow anyone to break through the wall I created, to guard against almost anyone—and I haven’t seen her since then.”

                Scully smirked, switching her focus toward Mulder as she held back a chuckle. “Oh, you two should definitely compare notes on this one, then?”

                “I deserve that,” Mulder knew she was taking a little too much delight in the parallel between Ava and Diana as he hid a smile and looked at Max. “What’s really bugging you about this? Seeing an ex or having to explain it to Drea? Don’t lie, either, or the one with a dirty little grin on her face will call you on it real fast.”

                “Both?” Max stood up, setting the coffee cup and file on the desk while he rubbed his temples, the onset of a migraine visible as his eyes were going bloodshot, while he recalled the bitter details of one of the least pleasant parts of his life. “Ava cheated on me, likely for the majority of the relationship, and her pure apathy toward the situation was more than I could handle. She tried to contact me for months after that, acting as though I drove her to do it. I spent nearly a year trying to put together the pieces. The night that I stayed with Drea…Ava was my example that I used when we were discussing songs and bitter tastes that they leave behind. I hadn’t planned on revisiting this.”

                “Professionalism aside, Max, you have an incredibly kind, understanding, amazing woman that you get to go home to every night in some capacity or another,” Mulder caught Scully biting the corner of her lip as she listened to the words leaving his mouth. “Don’t let the past shoot a bunch of holes through what came into your life out of a fated, incredibly crazy accident…You owe it to Drea to just let her know what’s going on.”

                “As for Ava King, you know you’re better than that and I’d hope she’s not the kind of woman to go hanging on what happened once upon a time, Max,” Scully grabbed her coffee and took a long sip, lowering her voice just a little. “If she can’t keep herself in line, I’ll box her ears in.”

                “Down, Scully,” Mulder smiled and popped another piece of his croissant into his mouth. “You’ll be fine and you know that we’ve got your back—just don’t get caught in dark corners alone with her or spent exorbitant amounts of time behind closed doors.”

                “It’s just a miserable thought that my first real chance to do field work includes the expertise of my ex-girlfriend,” Max was completely unsure of himself and it showed as he put the files onto the desk and heaved a heavy sigh. “Brandish one of those guns and kill me.”

                “Utilize frustration for the case…it’s a strangely strong ally in certain situations,” Scully held her breath for a moment as she saw the look in Max’s eyes. “No one in this room is going to let you fail, Max…I promise you that.”

                He knew that they were right in every sense but no one wants to face that kind of idea that they were about to confront an ex, especially the one that left things in such an upheaval. He didn’t look back on those memories with fondness and they took him back to a time when speaking freely wasn’t something that he did and he certainly wouldn’t have involved anyone else in his heartaches—until now. Max knew that if anyone was going to push him to get through it, other than Drea, it would be Mulder and Scully, as he could see their mutual strength more than on display, like a well-developed beacon that had more than been tested in the recent months. He had experienced it right along with them, down to the nearest detail, and knew that in spite of the terror, that the banter between them had only become stronger, more passionate, rawer, and less inclined to hide from the typical passer-by like it had been in the past.

                There wasn’t much of a need to hide it. Not anymore.

                The conversation had started to go into a different direction when the familiar, halfway heavy footsteps came meandering down the hallway after the dinging of the elevator at the end of the hallway quieted all three of them. Mulder nudged Max and gave him a quick wink, knowing that he was doing the internal battle despite the cheerleading session that he and Scully were putting forward. It wasn’t completely useless, though, as Max rolled his eyes and gave a nod of acknowledgement while opening another folder in front of him. They were still listening carefully to the steps as they grew louder with every passing moment, hinting at an arrival. It didn’t usually feel this loaded, of course, for any of them as the steps grew nearer to the door, the tension growing thick lick pea soup. Skinner was notorious for making his steps obvious and loud as he made his way to the door, sliding into the doorway with his usual, stoic expression.

                “So I found this short, wayward girl wandering the lobby acting suspicious with a smile one of those smiles on her face that just isn’t completely human,” Skinner leaned against the doorway and made eye contact with Mulder first, then Scully as the smirk appeared on his face. “Pretty sure she needs to be read her rights, given a pat down, and cuffed for mass amounts of interrogation.”

                Drea peeked into the room with a half-smile on her face, tilting her head to the side, a heavy coat draped across her arms. “I’m almost certain that I just coaxed a dirty joke out of Skinner about handcuffs…and I don’t know about you, but I think that’s a win in my book.”

                “Jesus Christ,” Max had his palm against his face, cloistering a laugh as she came into the room. “What are you doing here?”

                “You were in such an enormous hurry this morning that you ran off and forgot your coat hanging on the back of the chair at the table,” Drea swung the coat across his lap and purposely messed up his hair while making eye contact with Scully and Mulder. “Good morning, Scully…Mulder.”

                “Good morning, Drea, what a nice thing of you to do for your forgetful boyfriend,” Mulder was purposely flicking a little shit at Max, who hadn’t actually fully looked at his girlfriend after she walked into the office. “You should say thank you, Max.”

                “He would’ve remembered once he walked back outside in the second summer downpour of July,” Drea turned toward Scully and met a hug from the other equally petite, redhead in the room. “How are you doing, beautiful?”

                “Absolutely fabulous,” Scully straightened out a couple of stray hairs in Drea’s face as they separated. “How are you doing?”

                “Great, on my way to a rather large consultation for a house being built on the lake and figured I’d come by to drop off the coat,” Drea was lightyears different than she was six months earlier and the light in her eyes had returned along with that energy in her movements as she spun around and made eye contact with Max, who was staring at her sideways. “What are you staring at, flyboy?”

                “What in the holy hell are you wearing?” Max’s eyes were glued to the form fitted, hip hugging skirt that fell to at least four inches above her knees, and deep vee neckline that left little to the imagination on her porcelain, freckled skin. “Drea! That’s not what you were putting on this morning.”

                “I told you, it rained—the white linen didn’t survive the downpour so I changed clothes,” Drea laughed and poked him against the earlobe. “Got a problem?”

                Skinner rolled his eyes over the exchange that he had just witnessed and cleared his throat, capturing Drea’s attention for a moment. “I have a few things to finish upstairs…It’s good to see you, trouble-maker.”

                “Thanks for escorting me down here, Sir,” Drea winked at him and looked back at Max as he started to sigh audibly while Skinner made his quick escape. “What?”

                Max bit the corner of his lip, his well put together girlfriend looking every bit the high class professional, showing zero signs of the trauma victim that had once stood before him. Drea, much like Scully, was fairly remarkable in terms of her resiliency during the day time regarding the pathways of recovery. He was beyond proud of her and, at times, blown away at the woman that came home to him every single night simply by how remarkable it was that she was even standing upright on a daily basis. He had found someone that made the weakest parts of his heart strong and the toughest parts of his soul soften with every little beat of her imperfect heart, both completing what the other was missing for so long. She had an energy that rivaled anyone and it was infectious as the mood within Mulder and Scully’s office became lighter, softer as she leaned against the armrest of Max’s chair and put her arm around him.

                “You look like you’re about to come apart at the seams,” Drea’s voice went low, little even, as she stroked his cheek and crossed her legs, fully enveloping in a gaze until she could feel him exhale a little. “Let it go. Let it out.”

                “Damn, she’s good,” Mulder couldn’t help himself but say as he watched Drea disarm Max in less than five seconds. “I mean, I know another someone who can do that but she’s been doing it for a long time…this one has only had six months to figure you out.”

                “It doesn’t take long when you watch the signs,” Scully nudged Mulder’s arm and nearly thwacked him in the face with a file folder. “At least pretend you’re not carefully listening to every syllable between them, Mulder.”

                “Why are you guys so serious all of a sudden?” Drea looked around at them and then back at Max, her worry evident as she straightened her posture. “Seriously…I may not be FBI but I’ll interrogate it out of you.”

                Max sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to give up easily and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek to settle his own nerves before looking her in the eye. “So you know how I told you about the fact that I’ll be working in the field on a case?”

                “Well, yeah…and I told you I’m so proud of you for the opportunity for something like this,” Drea nodded, scrunching her nose at him as he was beating around the bush a little. “Haven’t you learned by now that I hate guessing games and dragging out the good part of a story?”

                “I found out just a little bit ago that one of the Agents working on this case with us is Ava King,” Max held his breath, half expecting her to get upset but she simply glanced back at Mulder and Scully for a second before pushing his head back by way of his forehead, sliding to her feet.

                “Christ almighty, you’re worrying over whether or not I’ll turn into some crazy little jealous, incapable of being in control over my own faculties girl, aren’t you?” Drea crossed her arms and bit the inside of her cheek, the warmth in her face evident as she felt the embarrassment over the assumption he was obviously making. “We’ve been over this dozens of times—I don’t do that blown out of proportion, jealousy thing and I definitely wouldn’t be getting that way over the one that permanently changed listening to half of the Fleetwood Mac discography, Max.”

                “I was about to say that maybe Scully and I should leave you two alone but maybe that’s a bad idea, I’m afraid she’s going to sock you,” Mulder raised an eyebrow as Drea was standing between him and Max, her profile angled to where she was well within slapping distance of both of them.

                “I won’t be slapping him, Mulder,” Drea kept her stare locked on to Max as he sat up straight and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth out of instinct. “My life changed the second you walked into it, Max, and no matter what happens to us, I am always going to know just how much that my presence in your life has changed your life—and no ex-girlfriend that comes crawling out of the woodwork is going to change that.”

                “If that doesn’t make you feel a little guilty…I don’t know what will,” Scully looked directly at Max as Drea’s words held a certain weight in her own heart as she compared them to the struggle that had felt so endless with Diana in the picture.

                Max knew that she was right as he wrapped his fingers around her hand, squeezing her fingers while he pulled her closer. “I know and you’re right…”

                Max made eye contact for only a moment with Mulder and Scully, who awkwardly and quietly got to a standing position and scooted to the other half of the office, separated only by the glass divider. Scully followed Mulder into divider space, his knees banging against a stack of boxes that were positioned too close to the glass framework. Drea and Max were both taken off guard by the sound that Mulder made as he grunted in frustration, the urge to kick it over quite obvious to everyone in the room. It was a simple gesture to acknowledge a moment that needed to be had as a couple, without them directly within earshot, even if he knew that they could still hear the majority of their conversation. Scully smiled at the situation, having little to no issue taking her focus off of the private moment as she openly scoped out Mulder’s ass as he leaned across a short cabinet, pushing the boxes back into place to prevent another shin injury.

                “I can see you ogling,” Mulder didn’t need to turn around to know that she was standing there with her bottom lip carefully between her teeth. “Objectification? Right now?”

                “Only seems fair after what you pulled in this office yesterday morning, Mulder,” Scully grinned and leaned against the door jam. “At least I’m keeping my hands to myself.”

                “You’d go crazy if you didn’t have the two of them to keep you balanced, you know that, right?” Drea watched Max roll his eyes over Scully and Mulder’s silliness from a good ten feet away as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m assuming they knew before me?”

                “They keep me from being too serious, that’s for sure—they knew minutes before you, barely,” Max rubbed the center of her back and kissed her forehead, feeling the sigh as it left her body quietly. “I should have trusted that you wouldn’t care but the truth is that it’s not you that I’m concerned about.”

                Drea was glad that she opted for the heels as she was a little taller and was able to be a little more intense with her stare, her hands holding his chin as she looked up at him. “You have more strength than you even know what to do with. It’s like when you can pull me from the edge of a nightmare with just your voice and the only people who could do that before are only with me in memory…that’s powerful, Max. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for and I know that facing her has you rattled. I can see it written on your face.”

                “I don’t want to be right back to where I was when I was with her, Drea,” Max sighed and glanced at the floor for a long moment.

                “You never will be…what happened to the guy who tried to slip into the shower with me this morning?” Drea purposely said it loud enough that Mulder completely lost his balance and tumbled onto the stack of boxes, on the other side of the glass, sending Scully into a fit of laughter.

                “That was foul play, Drea!” Mulder’s voice was half muffled by a box top that had come off and landed on his head as Scully tried to help him up.

                Drea shrugged her shoulders and looked over at the slight mess that he had made, his feet up in the air as Scully was pulling him upright. “That’s what happens when you’re honing in too well on the pervy shit.”

                “That’s kind of his specialty just like yours is a well-timed sarcastic remark,” Max smirked and pulled Drea into an embrace, looking over at Mulder, who was freshly to his feet.

                “And yours is walking like you’re sneaking into the house after dark and horrible timing,” Mulder wiped the side of his pants as he found a streak of dust down the side of his hip.

                “I’ll take awkwardly breaking up incredibly personal conversations, then?” The mid-toned, half commanding but even keel voice was unfamiliar to all of them except Max from the doorway, nearly sending him out of his skin as the head turn nearly caused a nerve to pinch completely off. “I hope I didn’t come in at an incredibly inappropriate or inopportune time?”

                Max stood there looking like a completely off-kilter dolt while the radiant smile of the very tall, somewhat curvaceous woman in the doorway had everyone in the room half crapping their pants simply from poor timing as Max went completely mute out of necessity. Her long, almost black hair hit at the middle of her back and rivaled Drea’s in length but was unnecessarily straight, parted in the center and tucked carefully behind her ears. Her shapelier figure was evident and less than hidden behind a tight pencil skirt that barely touched the tops of her knees and a muted coral, silk button down shirt that was strategically unbuttoned nearly low enough to see what she wore underneath. The glasses barely hid the bright eyes and carefully done makeup that seemed to aim everything toward her nearly coral lipstick. She had spent a little too much time making sure that every little detail was in its place but there was something nice about knowing that she was well dressed and could stop a truck with a body like that. She had at least 6 inches on both of the women in the room and the shoes did nothing to assist in the height differential as she slightly bent a leg, her stilettos adding to the already elongated, all legs body she was sporting. The look was caught somewhere between nerdy comptroller and seductive schoolteacher, a look that had everyone searching for the right combination of words to end the drought of silence that hung uncomfortably in the air.

                “You must be Agent King,” Scully was the first to speak as she glanced at Mulder, who had his mouth gaped like he had just witnessed a car crash as she outstretched her hand to shake Ava’s hand.

                Ava shook Scully’s hand, looking down at her through the lenses of her glasses. “You must be Agent Scully…I’ve heard so much about you, both through extensive details at the FBI as well as your educational background at Quantico. Your reputation is absolutely stellar.”

                Scully was cautiously flattered as she nodded and stood with her back against the divider. “Well, I certainly hope to live up to the rumored reputation with a word like stellar attached to it.”

                “I’m sure you will,” Ava turned her attention to Mulder, who had found the ability to pick his jaw back up off the floor with an elbow to his side from Scully as he moved past her. “And you are Agent Mulder—now, I’m sure that you are thinking that I’ll immediately go right for the reputation rumors that are not so good but you have a more prolific, long standing rep with the psychology kids who want to be profilers. They all use your criminal profile of Luther Lee Boggs for educational purposes…quite extensively.”

                “Certainly did your homework, Agent King,” Mulder withdrew his hand from a fairly strong handshake, the scent of her lotion lingering in the air and on his skin as he gathered his stance when he could feel palpable heat of a stare from the redhead next to him. “Complimenting and aging me in the same sentence—moreso on the complimenting, though.”

                Ava was bold and a little strategic in her maneuvering as she adjusted the balance of her glasses on her nose, almost ignoring the actual fact of Max and Drea being in the room for the moment. “I figured that the best introductions usually involve buttering up complete strangers so I can make absolutely certain that I’ll be able get this case out and into the open without a hitch…a strategy that usually works.”

                “I should probably go so you can get to work…I don’t want to be late for my appointment,” Drea kept her voice low, not wanting to admit that the presence of Max’s ex-girlfriend had her uncomfortable when she was directly placed within a few feet of her, realizing the drastic height and look difference between them.

                Scully recognized that look from Drea with an unpleasant familiarity and only found solace in knowing that it was often well hidden from others—knowing that she had kept it so well guarded and covered up with a well-placed smile or even a stoic look. It kept her from feeling too much and exposing when she did, indeed, feel too much. It had been part of her, in the worst of ways. Scully had utilized it a number of times when bombarded by the overwhelming presence of Diana prior to making her own feelings known—prior to knowing how to take a step forward. She had a watchful eye, knowing that the psyche was completely fragile and how easily this could go south, without much warning.

                Drea squeezed Max’s arm and caused him to snap out of the fear based petrifaction that had left him standing there like an absolute moron in front of everyone. He furrowed his eyebrows and finally made eye contact with his understanding, visibly stirred girlfriend, restoring a semblance of the man that had been surfacing for her and her alone.

                “I need to do this before you go, Drea,” Max’s voice was soft with her as held onto her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers while slowly moving to where they were both facing his ex with a little bit of confidence. “Ava, it’s been a really long time.”

                “It has hasn’t it, Max Belle,” Ava was fully looking at Drea instead of Max for a long moment before making eye contact with him, her hidden smile becoming more apparent with every syllable uttered. “I’ve heard so much about your accomplishments on the Miller case that I couldn’t pass up reuniting the trio that did such a stunning job capturing a psychopath—you seem to thrive as a group and I thought it best to utilize that with a certain immediacy.”

                Scully gave Mulder a careful squeeze of the arm and slid around him as it was appearing as though Drea was becoming part of the furniture, unwilling to allow it to happen. He made eye contact with the woman that knew him best and nodded, watching the most uncomfortable of confrontations unfold in front of him and realized exactly what Scully was about to do. They had grown accustomed to the way the other acted and thought, without a word even so much as being spoken, as he watched her move, noticed the little tick of a worried look developing as she took careful, soft motions toward the door to get just a little closer to Drea. Mulder couldn’t help but be a little fascinated by the way Scully operated her mannerisms but he also found a certain level of adoration in it as he knew that this was her care manifesting in so many ways. She wasn’t ordinarily the kind of person to position herself for something that could be potentially awkward but Drea had gotten close to Scully since the rooftop incident and she viewed her as considerably closer than most. Drea saw her out of the corner of her eye and smiled softly, knowing that the moment she walked outside that she wouldn’t be alone.

                “Lending expertise to a case such as this, with the intention of preventing the loss of life is what we’re all here for and I am certainly no exception in wanting to work hard with whomever I am asked to work with—isn’t that what we’re all here for?” Max gave Drea another careful squeeze of her hand and glanced at her, feeling that burst of adrenaline going through him as he looked into those shimmering sapphire eyes. “Oh…before I go and forget, Drea, this is Agent Ava King…Ava…this is my girlfriend Drea Miller.”

                If she hadn’t been painstakingly avoiding the subject of having sex with him, she would’ve jumped him right there in the office as he found that inner strength to be open, honest, and ballsy in front of his Amazonian of an ex. Drea blushed instinctively and in spite of herself as she reached out her hand to the significantly taller woman in front of her and shook her hand, her other hand still within the grasp of Max’s. Ava didn’t seem the slightest bit phased by the topic as she almost rolled her eyes at the notion and tilted her head to one side, her long locks shimmering in the overhead lighting with every little move she made. There was a subtle hint of being impressed by the once shy Max Belle as she glanced at him for only a moment before making full eye contact with Drea.

                “Drea Miller,” Ava’s smile was completely fabricated but no one in the room seemed to give much of a shit about it as she held Drea’s grip a little longer than needed, almost examining her equally well-manicured fingers. “Pleasure.”

                “Absolutely…Well, I’d better get going so you can get started on the case—and so I won’t be late for this consult,” Drea pulled her hand back and gave an awkward smirk in Scully’s direction. “Good luck today…everyone.”

                “Call me when you get done with the consult, let me know how it goes?” Max gave her a quick kiss as she maneuvered toward the door, not even noticing that Scully had slipped into the hallway before her.

                Drea held that stance for a second and nodded, whispering up at him with a very careful tone, a smile resting on her lips. “Don’t get bit, Maximus.”

                She winked at him, knowing that the statement wasn’t entirely loaded with an ex-girlfriend essentially shooting daggers at her from six feet away. It was an unbelievably mixed feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach, knowing that she was leaving him in the presence of a woman that had done so much damage but she trusted him implicitly, without limit…it was the other half of that equation that hadn’t earned a shred of trust, knowing their past. Drea was at least relieved as she knew that Mulder and Scully wouldn’t allow him to be lulled by pretty words dipped in cyanide. Max shook his head at the words and the wink from Drea, watching her as she walked out into the hallway. There was comfort in seeing a glimmer of her smile restored as she disappeared.

                “Oh, my God,” Drea’s mouth opened, the words quiet and shocked as she met Scully in the hallway and continued all of the way to the elevator. “What in the hell did I just leave?”

                “You looked like you were about to cut and run,” Scully could see the genuine stress lifting away from Drea as the doors shut. “I don’t even know. You could cut the tension in there with a knife.”

                “I wasn’t expecting to see fucking Wonder Woman in a pair of expensive glasses if I ever came face to face with Max’s ex and she looked at me like I was a little, irritating cockroach standing in front of her,” Drea pressed her back against the wall, sighing heavily, unsure of herself completely. “He took four, giant steps backward in about five milliseconds in there because of the damage that she has caused…I don’t even know how to fathom fixing it or if he can be helped at this point. It makes you feel terribly inadequate when you start thinking about it.”

                “It may not seem like it now because the vision is fresh but I know what it was like to be in your shoes in there just now and don’t lose sight over the hand that held yours,” Scully listened for the elevator dinging and held the door for Drea, blocking it from closing. “He chose you and you bring out the best parts of him—that’s something that you have to believe.”

                Drea smirked and gave Scully a quick hug before she slipped into the hall on the main floor toward the lobby. “I needed that and us short, feisty redheads need to stick together…it takes two of us to take one of her down anyway.”

                “Don’t say that in front of Max or Mulder, something tells me that a catfight would really get the blood flowing,” Scully shook her head with a smile on her face and stepped backwards, pressing the basement level again.

                The moment, however brief, was marked by a mutual understanding between two women who had been through hell and had come back from it with a greater understanding of their own inner workings. Scully maintained eye contact with Drea until the doors closed, with a firm belief that both of them had bonded a lot like sisters would. It was in that moment that Scully had determined that Missy was laughing, somewhere, somehow, over the relationship that had formed out of nowhere—delighting in seeing just how much care her little sister had developed for someone other than family, or Mulder. She shook her head as she prepared to continue a day that would likely put her mental capacity to the test as a new face would be potentially pushing the convictions and seaworthiness of the very small circle of trust that had been carefully built around them.

                She just hoped that there wasn’t blood in the water or a shark nearby to smell it.

 

 

 

_…And I believe that the only way_

_to reform people is to kill em…_

-Carl Panzram

 

 

6000 Block of Grove Drive

Belle Haven Neighborhood

Alexandria, VA

 

                The steam had been rising from the near boiling water in the top floor bathroom of the two-story, stone and wood cottage that was nestled into the edge of the hillside in the center of Grove Drive. The claw foot bathtub was in its own little room, the curtain swung off to the side, hanging across a railing that overlooked the window sills in a little inlet. The room was secluded and balmy while she rested her back against the edge of the tub, a cascade of red locks pinned to the top of her head, her body gently soaking her joints in the deeply searing, lilac and salt bath laced water. Everything ached a little as her spine popped like a zipper being pulled into place, the echo and hum of her muffled gasp occupying the space as she aimed a glance at the ceiling. She stretched her toes toward the furthest edge of the tub, the air nipping at her skin as the instant exposure to the air sent a chill up her shins toward her thighs. She audibly moaned, sliding her fingertips over the more sensitive parts of her skin, settling at the curve between her legs while her teeth pressed against her bottom lip, creating just enough of a jolt to create a deeper ache that had her lashes fluttering shut without thinking.

                She had seduced him so well, without even batting an eye, and he was hers for the taking, without much contestation.

                It wasn’t even a stretch of her imagination to recollect everything right down to the last detail—the dress, the shoes, the makeup, all of it was a well-constructed piece of herself to utilize against the feeble. The weak minded.

                He was taken in, captivated like a mouse seeking the cheese hanging from the end of a hook.

                Part of her didn’t feel right—but the rest enjoyed it just a little too much as she could see his face so perfectly, smiling up at her from a horizontal position on the floor of the landing, the door to the house wide open with the wind across their very naked flesh.

                “Ahhh,” the vocalization was a mixture of pleasure and pain as she kept her fingers still, heat comingling with that pose as her eyes clamped shut, angling her mouth toward her own shoulder. “Fuck.”

                It wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

                The adrenaline had all but faded as she shivered against the stark, white porcelain and rolled onto her side, sliding a hand across the edge, pulling herself up just enough to see the steel and cream mosaic tile flooring blur and focus. Her nearly pruny fingertips wrapped around the curve until she was nearly sitting up, her breasts pushed against the side of the tub with her bicep along the smooth surface, thoughtfully contemplating the cool air moving along her shoulder blades. She eyed the empty cigarette case sitting atop the bookmarked hardcover edition of _The Iliad & The Odyssey_ sitting on a stool sitting just a few feet away, the classic lettering in gold standing out against the blue of the thick binding. It was an ambitious set of poems for any non-required reading, but she found both to be perfectly epic pieces that explored loyalty as well as identity.

_Are you Odysseus or Calypso, little girl?_

                Her deeply green eyes stayed fixated on the book while the fingertips of her right hand gave the muddled, hazy water a little swirl.

                There was a little too much irony in the idea as she closed her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh, her partially bruised, swollen lips moving just enough as the air passed between them. She was testing them and testing herself, she had come to realize, with each little swap of a look or blend of a line across her eyelid—with every tug of the corset strings, she became more of a chameleon, more of a threat to any ability to tell exactly who she was or what she had become. It was becoming an extension of her own internal yearning as nothing really existed without the current or next disguise—that each little change was a new opportunity to reel someone else in and play with them, even if it were only for a short period of time. She had a craving that had barely been tapped into and the lust was already aching as she slid her toe forward, pushing the plug from the drain. It was quiet, almost too quiet even as the sound of the water draining was barely louder than the sound of her own breathing as she lifted herself, rising to her feet in the middle of the bath.

                “I need a designated bathing assistant that just waits outside of the tub, holding a towel like a good little servant,” Talking to herself was the norm as she felt the droplets of water down her back and along the bend of her knees.

                She stood there, for a long moment, staring at the sunlight peering through the windows and watching as the breeze rustled the branches, making the leaves dance in a less than distinctive pattern on the wind. In the distance, the murmuring of neighborhood kids playing and overly loud conversation could be heard—it was the only negative of living in a slightly more upscale, older neighborhood. It came with the nosey, overly loud creatures that kept reproducing their equally loud, irritating spawn that seemed to know exactly when to show up at her front door or in her yard, looking like tiny, well-dressed assholes ready to ruin her entire day. It was no matter, however, as she largely kept to herself and only put on the fake, well-constructed backyard grin when necessary, even if she were carefully concealing a rather large blood stain behind an apron or a pretty little cardigan. It gave an entirely new meaning to suburban living and dragged her that much closer to the Stepford’s of the world.

                It assisted so well in preserving that little world that was hiding away from the world, though, as she embraced that level of fakery like it were a warm blanket.

                She took a little breath and glanced at the clock, realizing that she still had a great rest of the day to accomplish despite that nagging exhaustion coursing through her. It was beginning to become apparent as she yawned singularly and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. Sleep had evaded her for the majority of the night and it was noticeable as the streaks of mascara and eyeliner were still visible around her eyes, the little bits of shimmer left over from a rough previous night along with the remnants of stubble burn around her mouth and down her neck. She had let this one go a little too far. She had let him take a little bit of her with him as she wrapped a towel around herself and found the teeth marks between her breasts, clear as day, gawking up at her like a purple, red, and blue beacons. No amount of makeup was going to cover up the discoloration, she had determined, as she ran her nails along the tender spots, wincing as she realized he had bit and pulled.

                “Son of a bitch—you did try to take a chunk from me, didn’t you?” She maneuvered out of the tub and dried herself off, avoiding the bite marks with a certain tenderness. “Fucking asshole.”

                She didn’t dwell on the surface injury as she discarded the towel on a hook near the door and made her way into the adjoining bedroom from the bathroom sans clothing. It was a completely liberating feeling as the significantly cooler air in the bedroom kissed the exposed skin, sliding over each little curve like an incredibly gently lover would. She closed her eyes for a moment and held onto the post of the bed, reaching up to pull the pins loose from the top of her head, sending the long, flowing red hair down in a singular tumble. She swung her head around just a little, tossing the hair from side to side as she opened her eyes and scoped out the black, satin, thigh length nightgown that had been hanging from the door handle. She only contemplated it for a moment before crossing the room to gather the thin material between her fingers and slipped it over her head with precision. The cool, slippery material slid beyond every curve until she was able to look in a mirror at the figure staring back at her, cementing that notion that her looks really were a weapon.

                The floor length mirror didn’t hide away her bruises as she scoped out the little finger marks across her thighs, smirking at each one. “Should probably go check on him before he goes and hurts himself.”

                One, last glaring glance at her reflection revealed the extent of the muddling that the eyeliner had done on the edges of her eyes, sinking into well beyond the standard edges in a fuzzy pattern with little bits of shimmer from the glitter that had once rested upon her eyelids. It was the first time in days that she felt the after effects of a long night as she licked her lips and sneered at herself, the image hazy for a fleeting moment before she reached for a tissue on the dresser. She wiped at the streaks along the edges of her eyes with the soft tissue a little mercilessly until it looked halfway decent, marveling at the fact that her false lashes had stayed in place so well, before sliding her arms into her robe that matched the nightgown. Her eyes lingered over the bed as her fingers held onto the cinching at her waistline, paying careful attention to the bloody fingerprints along the post at the head of the bed. She smirked and went for the door, her rail straight hair bouncing with every little step she took as she descended the open stairwell toward the landing.

                She barely made a sound as she moved like she was made of air.

                Her feet touched the floor with a calculated grace, silent and hollow, sensed only by the audible sigh that she let leave her lips as she allowed her heels to impress upon the hardwoods before crossing the length of the house. She stopped at the top of the second landing, her fingers against the basement level door and could already hear the gentle whining coming from the other side. The lights had been off for hours and she knew that the fool had no idea of exactly how much time had passed as she pulled the door open, letting herself in. She couldn’t help herself as the smirk showed her teeth just enough to be a little menacing as she stood at the top of the stairs and pulled the door shut, flipping a solitary overhead light on in the room below, shedding light on her defenseless victim at the other end of the room. The confidence was undeniable and entered her veins like a drug as she channeled the inner man-eater while staring toward the broken creature chained to the wall.

                The panic was setting in before he could even fully see her, the clanging of metal on metal as he struggled with his restraints, his knees butterflied in a painful direction and his wrists behind his back, pulled taut through a loop that had been created via small chain lever, both sets of restraints affixed to a singular point on the wall, giving him little to no room to move other than backwards. The light had momentarily blinded him as he winced and glanced at the floor, blinking rapidly as he struggled to watch her, hoping she’d just opt to leave him alone. He was a far cry from the overly confident man that picked her up in the bar as she descended the stairs, admiring his cuts and bruises, along the curve of his biceps, down his calf muscles, and along the prominent line of his collarbone. The positioning of his arms had put more than a little strain on his cuts as she could see that he had fairly fresh streaks of blood down each arm. She had deprived him of most of his dignity, leaving him in nothing more than a pair of boxers and his mouth taped shut to prevent him from screaming for help.

                “Darling Mr. Henderson, I could hear you whimpering from the top of the stairs,” She kept her distance as she watched him narrowing his eyes at her, glaring hard. “Are you upset? You look upset. I’m right, you are…huh?”

                She rather enjoyed terrorizing him as she watched his nostrils flare, the indentation of his lips pushing against the tape, and the sound of a labored groan muffled against plastic, polyethelyne, mesh, and the rubber adhesives that composed the duct tape. It was almost as compelling as watching him struggle with the reinforced, prison grade shackles that had been completely fastened to the wall with more skill than he could have imagined that she possessed. She smirked again at Justin’s physical condition, his muscle groups twitching as she approached him, his head craning back to maintain a solid, pensive stare with her. The metal around his wrists were just tight enough that every move he made rubbed another red welt from the friction, a sensation that sent an irritating jolt from his thumb to his shoulder blades and back again. He didn’t want to appear weak but his actions were doing just the opposite as she pressed her index along the curve of his chin, drawing his head back a little further as she towered over him in the position she was in compared with his.

                “I bet if I take that tape off you’re going to start screaming like a little bitch, aren’t you, Mr. Henderson?” Her voice was dangerous and hit every note carefully, sending a surge of energy rushing through his spine as she sunk her nails into his shoulder, making him straighten his back out a little more.

                He growled against the tape and turned his head wildly, the pain searing his skin both uninvited yet titillating as he fought the rush of blood to his extremities, the sensation instantly dizzying. She was nearly drawing blood as she released her fingers and watched him wilt against the restraints, tilting forward until his shoulders were uncomfortable and sore. Justin was whimpering but not over any fear or impending doom as the throbbing in his shoulder was traveling the expanse of his flesh, awakening every part of him, betraying any notion that he could hide it from her. She wasn’t gentle as she took hold of the restraints around his wrists and yanked him backwards, delighting at the instant vocalization that was dulled by the tape across his lips. She wasn’t done with the torture as she grabbed a section of the chain and jerked it until he had no other choice but to lean forward to avoid popping both shoulders out of the sockets. The move was more painful than any of the cuts she had made thus far and the noise he made was visceral, guttural even, as she held on for at least ninety seconds before letting go, just to watch him recoil backwards like a spring.

                She ripped the tape off of his mouth, the satin of her bathrobe rubbing against the right side of his chest, smearing blood and sweat in the process, yanking a handful of his hair until he had no choice but to look straight up at her. “You fucking cretin, you like it, don’t you?!”

                “You God damn, fucking bitch…” Justin was completely caught between a rock and a hard place as every instinct was clouded, the physical response fully leaving him wanting more of whatever she had to give while his brain was telling him that this lead to nothing good.

                She feigned exasperation and sucked in a shocked breath as she held a hand to her chest and batted her eyelashes at him. “What happened to calling me Baby? Are you just so frustrated that you’ve lost that endearing feeling for me, Mr. Henderson? Not nearly as fun as when I was straddling you with a door open where any passerby could’ve caught a glimpse, huh?”

                “You’re fucking crazy and belong in a mental institution,” Justin’s voice was hoarse, his eyes burning right through her as she stood in the space between his knees and shoved him backwards until the slack gave, making him struggle against the chains. “What in the fuck is your end game?”

                “Don’t act tough when you’re not prepared for the consequences of your words, little boy,” She pushed her thumb and index groove against his Adam’s apple until she could hear him straining to breathe, glancing at the obviousness of a blooming erection in his boxers. “I could deprive you of your life in less than thirty seconds or take my sweet ass time with it and all you can do is sit there with your hard-on like a puppet wanting more. You know exactly what you are and I simply brought it out of you, you disgusting little boy.”

                “Fuck you,” Justin snarled, the vitriol was real in spite of the renewed sexual energy that was blooming as he stared up at her, the blood fighting to pump to his brain.

                She smirked and released the pressure on his windpipe before licking his neck, drawing a heavy shudder from him that shook a groan loose from his vocal cords. “Oh, but you already did that, didn’t you?”

                Justin knew, deep underneath of the wit and bite of her words that she was beyond the level of seriousness but he couldn’t help but wonder if she would take mercy on him if he were complicit and cooperative in the situation. He allowed his eyes to drift back to the floor, while her fingers lingered against two of the deeper of his cuts, pushing into the wound until he vocalized, the groaning considerably louder as she pushed hard enough to get each little electrical impulse sizzling with pain. She wanted the reaction and craved knowing just how much pain that she was inflicting as she watched a bubble of new blood forming around her fingertips before sliding down the twitching expanse of his skin. She smeared the crimson across his bicep and indexed his chin again, forcing his head back until he was looking up at her, eyes full of hatred and fear in perfect cohabitation. He wanted to return the same sort of violence in her direction but the limitation to his movement kept him a helpless to her whims.

                “What do you want from me?” Justin’s tone had softened but his jaw as still partially clenched as he felt the warmth of his own blood against his skin, sliding down in a long line and along the spots where her fingers were touching.

                “Do you really want to know or are you just asking so you can stall me a little more because it hurts too much?” There was malice laced in her tone as she pushed her knee against his left inner thigh, roughly adding a little tension against the cuts and heavy bruising along the vastus laterlis muscular ridge, wheedling a low, deep grunt from him.

                He nearly vomited on the spot as the pain surge sent a wave of agony through both legs and up his midsection, making every nerve twitch involuntarily. “You better fucking hope I don’t get out of these restraints—”

                “Or what? You’ll try to seduce me again, Justin?” She slapped him hard enough to stop him from speaking, knocking the spit out of his mouth as she repeated the same rough pressure motion with her leg against his right thigh. “If you had kept your eyes open when your tongue was down my throat last night, you would’ve realized that your brand of charm is old…tired…repetitive…overdone. How in the fuck does your wife even put up with you?”

                “You’re certifiable, fucking nutbag—leave my wife the hell out of this,” Justin’s lip was a little bloody as his drool came out as a trail of bubbles, clear fluid and cherry red until it hit the floor in a little pool, his teeth still chattering as his eyes were level with a set of breasts as her robe half fell open.

                “I’m afraid it’s a little late for all of that nonsense, Justin,” Her bordering on neon red hair cascaded around her shoulders as she angled his head back, wiping the blood away from his puffed up bottom lip, purposely rubbing up against him to the point that she could feel that very obvious hard-on barely hiding behind his boxers against her leg. “You’re trying to play white knight when you’re sporting wood for a woman that’s been abusing the living shit out of you since last night. Do you know what that makes you? It makes you exactly what you think that you’re not—a deviant.”

                “Why are you doing this?” There wasn’t a limit to his fear in spite of the bulge growing as he closed his eyes, hoping she’d leave his crotch alone as he felt the searing pain as his ankles began to go numb.

                Her hands were pushing Justin’s limits as she roughly pinched at sections of bruised skin along his abs, watching him grit his teeth and twitch in frustration. “Does your wife just not interest you? Is that why you keep cheating on her? Does she even know what kind of freak you are?”

                “Stop…” Justin was withdrawing, his eyes clamped shut, blood on the side of his mouth edging a little closer to his chin.

                “Are you afraid of your pretty, little socialite wife finding out that she married a man who can’t get it up anymore without getting his ass beat until he bleeds?” Her fingers dug into another set of cuts along his back, opening them up a little more, sending him into a fit of heavy grunts as revived eye contact, indignation burning behind his eyes. “What would she say? Would she leave you and go back home to Mommy and Daddy?”

                Justin was reeling as she maneuvered her hands forward, gripping his trapezius with a little too much zeal as she nearly caused him to lose consciousness almost immediately. “Stop!”

                “How angry would she be if she saw you right now? Knowing that you’ve cheated on her again?” She lowered her voice and whispered in his ear, moaning softly as she pushed her breasts against him. “Did you apologize the last time and tell her that it would never happen again?”

                He was drowning in the sensation of the man-eater with ravenous intent, doing everything she could to keep him on the edge of desire and a complete physical, psychological breakdown. She was the definition of that creature that musicians described in songs—the ones that take everything you have and leave you alone, battered, bruised, or worse, dead on the side of the road like so many pieces of road kill. He felt like every piece of him was aching and crying out in unison as images of his wife’s very angry, done up face kept popping into his head along with little glimpses of the night before in hyper replay, like  a bad movie stuck in a perpetual loop. Trusting one’s gut is only a viable solution if the blood to your other body parts is actually flowing freely and in Justin’s case, his crotch was receiving the majority of the amplest of movement.

                She could tell.

                “What do you want from me?” Justin’s voice was weak, the rapture building in his throat as the warmth of her radiated against him in the most uncomfortable way possible as he watched the robe drop to the floor.

                The color of her eyes may have just as well been pure crimson, to match her unmatched, pure execration for his gender as she balanced against the chains, putting pressure against the curvature of his spine. “Why bother asking a question that you most certainly already know the answer to deep down within yourself, Justin?”

                “I don’t know what you want, I don’t know what you want, I don’t fucking know what you fucking want,” Justin’s pain was no longer hidden as he gritted his teeth, the sweat pouring off of his forehead as the satin of her nightgown was now fully pressed against the angered, pulsing nerves of his neck as she impressed her weight upon him, pushing him toward the wall.

                The already thinned out patience for him that she had was becoming even less so as she tightened her fingers around his throat again, cutting his airways off as the slack in the chain gave her ample room to shove his knees together and adjust the lever until he was teetering on his heels. “You are about to push my restraint to an absolutely unpleasant level, aren’t you? I’m this close to ending you right now so that your pretty little wife has to see a corpse with a snapped neck instead of hearing every little word from your mouth in this exact position that you’re in…do you understand me?”

                “Please, don’t hurt her,” Justin’s voice was strained as he craned his neck, trying to get a little gap between her fingers and his flesh, the air increasingly difficult to pull into his windpipe with each, labored breath.

                “My treatment of her will be considerably more just than what you have bestowed upon her, Justin,” She was watching him turn a delightful shade of red, his eyes rolling back in his head as she continued to choke him. “After all, you even cheated before you said ‘I do’ didn’t you?”

                “Fuck…you…” Justin’s chest was starting to convulse as the laryngeal pressure was intense even though she was barely breaking a sweat as she stood in front of him.

                “Didn’t you?” She was nearly shouting at him, her face just inches away as she hovered, her heat colliding with the fear that he emitted like a pulse tone.

                Justin had little spots passing in front of his field of vision like stars as the tears stung his lacrimal caruncle, passing along the lower lid before creating a trail of salt along the curve of his nose, his voice straining. “Yes! I cheat on her all of the time! I don’t fucking love her and I’ve never loved her. I love the idea of her. I loved the possibilities she kills. She’s a self-righteous, spoiled brat and I cheated on her the night I proposed to her.”

                Her fingers released the pressure but kept a firm enough grip as his Adam’s apple bobbed against her palm, a look of satisfaction on her face as she stared down at the tears as they met the bruised flesh of his mouth. “That little revelation has been eating at you for a very long time, hasn’t it, Justin? I bet even the closest of friends don’t even know how deeply your hatred of your wife goes…Am I correct?”

                “Whatever you plan to do to me just do it,” Justin had given up, resigned a fate that he couldn’t escape as he caught a glimpse of the gold hues mixed into the centers of the green irises that had him so captivated the night before. “Just leave her out of it. Leave her alone.”

                “For someone with so much disdain for his wife, you certainly don’t want to see her suffer,” She almost didn’t care about actions behind the words, but rather the meaning as she slowly blinked, a softness coming over her voice as she looked into him, into his soul. “Are you certain you’re telling me the truth about your precious little Mindy?”

                Justin’s last shred of sanity was hanging by a thread as he stared through his abuser, finding nothing behind her eyes but the soulless woman that dragged him down the stairs and flicked a blade into him during the night. At the end of the day, a loveless marriage built around his lack of conviction was still a marriage and he didn’t want the woman that he gave his last name to, in any such terms, to suffer the same kind of fate that clearly lay before him. He blinked hard and felt the bitter sting of tears as they spilled out and blended with sweat as they dotted along his face, dripping off of his chin, her unyielding heat reminding him that he wasn’t going anywhere and there was nothing more that he could do other than to surrender to whatever fucked up little game she wanted him to play. He just wanted her focus off of his wife—even if it meant that it would be at his own expense.

                He owed her that much in spite of it all.

                “It doesn’t matter now,” Justin’s legs were on fire as she moved her hand to the curve of his collarbone and watched his veins pop out underneath of her fingers. “You have what you want—you can leave her alone.”

                “That’s where you’re so very wrong and why you’re just a little boy underneath of all of that muscle,” Her voice sunk into him like a set of sharp teeth, tearing away at his flesh until there was nothing left but bones. “I want her to hear every little thing you just said and I want her to know the kind of filth that you are.”

                It was in that moment that he broke as he forced a smile, deviating from his nearly broken state of mind, searing his stare through her. “You’re awfully holier than thou for a woman who layers the makeup like a high priced hooker—who, in turn, scopes out a victim for free and fucks them six ways from Sunday all the while preferring to be called ‘Baby’. Who is the filthy one in this scenario exactly because that line seems to be fairly blurred now that you’ve got me chained to the wall…?”

                “Oh, but here’s the part that you don’t seem to understand, little boy,” The underlying feature of her expression was cold and calculating as she used her significant thigh strength to push his knees together, straddling him as she looked him eye to eye, carefully tightening the chains behind his back to her liking. “I know what I am and I know what I have always been whereas you are still in denial about your very obvious degradation. Slut shaming me only gives me more power over you, don’t you understand that? You’re mine and you’re going to be mine until you take your last, painful breath.”

                “Then get it over with and stop dragging it out…end it,” Justin’s fight or flight was surging into overdrive as he shook against the restraints, half swinging his spine forward, jutting his chest against hers. “What else could you possibly want from me?”

                She was painfully hushed and still as she stared him down and caressed his cheek with an almost parental gentleness that had him shaking. The muted breaths and suppressed sounds from her pressed together lips restored the room to an almost deafening silence that left him wondering if she had a blade hidden somewhere, wrapped in a sheath around her ankle or against her shin, ready for the final plunge into his jugular. Somewhere, in her soul, she wanted to do it. She wanted to rip away his soul and leave him gagging for air but it wasn’t time, not yet…not without everything in its place as she wanted it. She knew he had no idea what she was capable of and she preferred the mystery—it was secretive and haunting to watch him twitch in anticipatory fear over her next move. Calling her stone wouldn’t have done it justice and she wasn’t cold as ice; she was every unruly element that could not be contained while being the instrument of every devilish little design in unison. She held all of the winning cards while his hand certainly held nothing but Aces and Eights, of Spades; she was the dealer and the house in the same breath. She was also the black widow luring in a husband with her telltale beauty and lips perched for his.

                She was his downfall.

                Her eyes hid a secret and conveyed that conflicted mixture between lust and rage as she examined him slowly before sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, setting her teeth down on the flesh just enough to make him shudder. “I want you…begging…for every last second of your miserable, pathetic, poor excuse of a life…Baby…and you’re going to do it in front of your very pretty little wife. That’s what I want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient – I’m already plotting out chapter 3 and hope you love this one!
> 
> Thank you to Monika, as always, for reading huge excerpts and being such a big support when I felt like I was losing my mind.
> 
> Quotes by:  
> Jhumpa Lahiri  
> Carl Panzram (if you don’t know who he is, you should look him up, he is a notorious serial killer, rapist, generally terrible guy)
> 
> References Made:  
> The Iliad & The Odyssey by Homer  
> Stepford Wives  
> The Deadman’s hand (Aces and Eights)
> 
> All medical terminology has been checked and double checked for reference – if something is misspelled just let me know


	3. Obscura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: With the continuing murder trial of Miles, Mulder and Scully are confronted by the VCU with a case that bears strikingly similar patterns by their, now infamous, psychopath on trial. 
> 
> Three part chapter; interviews reveal someone new to the fold and a killer strikes again, but who is her victim?
> 
> *Strictly for timeline use, this is likely post – “The Unnatural” due to the reference to July and summer in the episode (and there will be small mentions of Monday through Milagro for contextual purposes and some story premise but only in very brief detail*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical procedures described in detail - proceed with caution
> 
> "Curiosities, dalliances, and the deviance that lead us down the path" 
> 
> (Go spray some of that Classique on yourself, pour some port...and let me entertain you)
> 
> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

 

 

_Your eyes are hollow_

_Your heart is shallow,_

_And your words_

_Mean nothing to me._

_A lifetime of lies,_

_All the schemes_

_You devise,_

_Will eventually lead_

_To your demise._

_Hell is waiting for you._

-Christy Ann Martine

 

3:00 PM, Tuesday, July 13th

Washington DC Metropolitan

Police Department – Fifth District (Bladensburg Rd)

 

                The abundant chatter of the interior of the moderately sized, leaning toward inadequately equipped, district building that oversaw the entirety Ivy City area started in a small lobby as Mulder, Scully, and Max followed two officers toward the back of the building. They were absent their new addition in Ava, who was gathering intelligence intel from her assembled task force, and the anxiety had all but left them without her. Max was letting them take the lead, absorbing as much of their knowledge as he could as they entered the back portion of the building where the smaller conference rooms were kept, hidden only by a single pane of glass, a door, and mini blinds. He had been reasonably gun shy about being too outspoken but was heavily focused on the procedural aspect of being out in the field—despite the fact that Mulder and Scully weren’t exactly known for full attention to the rule book. He was utilizing their experience to draw on, to develop his sea legs even though they both had more than full confidence in his abilities after his demonstration of skill with capturing Miles.

                He was second guessing his own abilities whether he knew it or not and his allies certainly could tell that he was completely holding back as they neared the interrogation spaces.

                The voices in the main bullpen were loud with every step they took, likely moreso than normal with the introduction of FBI presence in the building, and the witnesses inside of the room as Scully’s eyes narrowed at the peanut gallery that had formed just a few feet away. It was a little sad to witness as they sipped their cold coffees and fingered the remnants of sandwiches on their desks, not once paying attention to anything but the three well-dressed Agents walking through the room. Scully hated being stared at by strangers and the uniforms of each person giving her the eye didn’t alleviate any of her frustration as she found herself gripping the hem of her jacket, quelling the brewing diatribe that was begging to come out. Hell hath no fury like a less than patient Scully made to more than necessary discomfort in any capacity. Mulder was watching her in his peripheral as he gave her a soft nudge and brought her attention back to the walkway.

                “That certainly isn’t inconspicuous,” Scully rolled her eyes, giving that patented ‘this is going to be a long afternoon’ look in Mulder’s direction as his elbow lingered against her arm for a second longer than he’d usually allow. “Do you think they’re having an incredibly long conversation about the FBI wandering around their building since things seem a little quieter than the average police station?”

                “Oh, be nice, Scully…it’s not every day that the FBI comes waltzing through your District building looking like they own the place,” Mulder adjusted his tie as they turned a corner and heard the feminine chatter behind the door. “Plus, all of this staring and the dramatics could have more to do with the witness in that room than it does with us.”

                “I thought you told my mom I wasn’t in trouble yesterday, what am I doing back down here, Perry?” Skye’s plainly irritated voice wasn’t loud but it was strong as the door opened to the small interrogation room. “I already told you what happened yesterday was a fluke and I’m still getting the stink out of my hair…do you know how gross it was? Do you? I bet you don’t even care.”

                “The FBI needs to hear your words today and you’re not in trouble—I didn’t lie about that, Skye,” Lieutenant Emma Perry was the only badge in the room with her and she was not exactly thrilled over getting into an argument with a teenager but here she was, doing just that. “I do care about that but, again, it’s not my problem that you keep going into fenced off areas on a daily basis and this time you happened to go getting yourself covered in soiled, saturated water at a body dumpsite.”

                “Hey, you’re lucky it was me and not one of those homeless people that found that couple—they’d just pretend like they didn’t exist and keep moving on with their day,” Skye was in the crosshairs of being seen by all three Agents as they walked into the room, causing her to go somewhat mute with an immediacy as she looked up at them in wide-eyed horror.

                Lieutenant Perry’s stature was impressive in her dress blues and badging, pressed and tailored to near perfection, her hair wrapped in a tight bun atop her head like a ballerina, her thick, black rimmed glasses perched on her nose, hiding away deeply green eyes and long, black eyelashes. “Your Mother already told us, in exchange for cooperation in this investigation, that we wouldn’t be pushing for you to spend a little time in a juvenile center for your laundry list of truancy issues…so don’t push it, Skye.”

                “Lieutenant…these are the FBI Agents that we were given the heads up about,” Burroughs cleared his throat and stood off to the side, allowing Mulder, Scully, and Max to file into the room a little better.

                Lieutenant Perry turned and wrinkled her nose in their direction, staring a little too long at Max, who had his own furrowed brow to offer in return as she pushed her glasses back onto her nose and offered a handshake to each of them. “I was told that Agent King would be in attendance as well but she is noticeably absent from this group you have going here?”

                Familiarity wasn’t their friend and Max was having one of those déjà vu moments as he came face to face with the Lieutenant, his chest heaving while his expression bitterly betrayed his cool exterior. This wasn’t going to be good and Mulder and Scully were watching every detail play out like the moments leading to the climax of a snuff film with their eyes taped in the open position. Pensive didn’t completely or accurately describe it with enough intensity as the Lieutenant kept staring Max down for another thirty seconds while he moved to the opposite end of the room, purposely putting distance between them. Mulder looked at Scully and shook his head, knowing that their day was about to get a little bit longer as Max gestured to his neck, rolling his eyes just enough that only they noticed it.

                “Agent King is working with the task force but should be joining us later for any additional details,” Mulder could tell that there was an odd exchange going on between Max and the Lieutenant but didn’t want to address it quite yet as he looked at Scully, raising a single brow at her. “Is this our witness…I heard the name Skye? Is that your name?”

                 “Skye Moon Hughes…My mom is a regular flower child and I kind of had to just own it. When Sailor Moon came out, it just kind of stuck and now everyone thinks it’s cool,” Skye had one of those radiant smiles that could quiet a room with a singular expression as she straightened out her back and fiddled with her purple ends. “I know Perry says I’m not in trouble but history has kind of been a bit cruel to me about sneaking through the stockyards and old loading areas—so I’m worried that my Mom is going to end up shipping me off to a school where the nuns can still beat you with rulers.”

                Scully’s eyes were still thoroughly examining the female in the room other than their witness, struggling not to focus on why her face looked so familiar as she pried focus away and made eye contact with Skye. “You’re not in trouble, Skye, we just need to know what happened yesterday for our own investigation…and if there’s anything you may have missed, now is the time to tell it.”

                “Could be even the smallest of details that might’ve seemed unimportant at the time?” Mulder was a little more willing to be visually on her level as he slid into the metal folding chair and clasped his hands across the top of the table. “Did you hear anyone else in the building when you got there?”

                “I had my headphones on kind of loud—drowns out the barking dogs and car alarms in the area so I can get through without having to hear the jarring sounds that I normally would,” Skye fidgeted and stared at the charm bracelet across her wrist, the little crescent moon shimmering at her as the light caught it. “I noticed the smell first—the rain always changes the way those old buildings smell but the odor was pretty bad this time like sewage, cleaning products, and rotten meat all at once. I thought that the old lady with her fifty cats might’ve dumped one of them in there but then I fell in the standing water and found the bodies.”

                Skye’s body language told more of a story than her recollections of the previous day’s events as Mulder could see her unintentionally clenching her jaw, glancing at the top of the table, and going glassy eyed for extended seconds before gathering her attention. She was scared and was visualizing the bodies all over again, in vivid detail, like she was still standing in the water up to her knees. Scully cleared her throat and captured her attention along with a weak smile as she hugged her arms close, biting down on the corner of her lip to keep from crying. It was evident that she had been doing a fair amount of that already by the looks of the smudging along her waterline where her eyeliner once sat perfectly crisp. She was holding it together, but only by a thread and it was just enough to keep that tough exterior she had spent so long perfecting for a room of people.

                “Skye, I know that recalling these details aren’t easy but your help is key in finding who did this to that couple,” Scully could see the recorder out on the table that Max had set down that had been pushed into the actively recording as she realized she had forgotten a pad and pen entirely. “You told the officers that responded on scene that there was blood in the water, correct? Did it have a different coloration, texture, or anything that might’ve seemed unusual?”

                “It was kind of syrupy and dark red, not brown, though…I know old blood is supposed to be brownish or something,” Skye nodded as she leaned back in the chair, stretching out her Doc Martens until they knocked against the legs of the table, her eyes lingering over each one of them until she came to Max, who had been borderline silent since they arrived. “What are you supposed to be? Their silent interpreter…or are you the poorly trained puppy that misbehaved on the way over?”

                “You’ve heard that saying about the good cop and the bad cop, right?” Mulder waited for the nod from Skye before he gave a thumb direction toward Max, wiggling it just a little. “He’s the really bad cop…you definitely want him quiet right now. He bites.”

                Max played along and made an overstated lunging action, puffing out his chest a little bit as his eyes narrowed, legitimately making Skye jump and straighten out her posture as she stared up at him with an eyebrow perched. “Whatever it is, it’s working…I don’t really know what you want to know that I haven’t already told the officers that showed up and took all of my clothes because I was knee deep in that stuff. I usually cross through a building that gets standing water in it when it rains and this time, there was a lot of water in one section where the bodies were, and the blood was still coming out of both of them like they hadn’t been out there that long.”

                “Were you able to tell if it was coming from both bodies or just one of them?” Max finally spoke as he tried to imagine the slightly intimate pose they had been left in, arms touching, knees bent toward one another.

                “Oh, so you do talk…” Skye smirked, her sarcasm evident as she crossed her arms and blinked slowly, her mind wrapping around the hazy image of the previous day. “It looked like was worse for the guy than it was for girl because he had blood and fluids coming from more than the words carved into him. He had cuts and puncture marks all over the place. She looked like she didn’t have much of anything other than some bruising…like she bumped into something or might’ve hurt herself before she was killed? It wasn’t one of those really intense bruises. It was one of those that you get when you bump your shin on the edge of the furniture in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom.”

                “I know it’s a weird question but did you notice any defensive marks on either of their hands? Anything to indicate they fought back?” Mulder was already mapping out the scene in his head and the staging was bothering him.

                “She had bloody knuckles like she was able to get a good pop off on the person that did it—I couldn’t tell the difference with him, he was mangled pretty badly,” Skye’s uneasiness was creeping in as she purposely made eye contact with Scully. “They weren’t alive when the killer cut the words into them, were they?”

                Scully shook her head and watched Skye’s eyes fall against the metal table top. “It doesn’t appear as though they were from the photographs, Skye.”

                “All of the mutilation was post mortem,” Lieutenant Perry interjected as she stood in the corner with her arms crossed and a file in her hand, the look on her face fairly detached, nearly blank, as she refused to make full eye contact with anyone. “Skye…you can go home. Don’t do anything stupid and if we have to ask more questions, don’t go hiding out at the brickyard again, I will find you.”

                “Yes, ma’am…My Mom won’t let me leave the house half of the time, anyway, so I don’t think you have to worry about hunting me down if you have more questions to ask,” Skye got up and walked toward the doorway, turning just enough to look at the Lieutenant, the curiosity written on her face. “Am I going to get my jacket back? You know it’s my favorite.”

                “Get going before I change my mind and stick your ass in a holding cell,” Lieutenant Perry glared at the teenager in her ripped jeans and multicolored, modified Ziggy Stardust tee shirt that had been ripped along the side and tied in a makeshift, floppy bow at her hip, her tone slipping into a place that the girl immediately recognized.

                “Fine, fine, fine…I’m gone,” Skye heaved a heavy sigh, rolled her eyes and slammed the door as she left, shaking the mini blinds in her wake.       

                Lieutenant Emma Perry gathered her wits as she held the bridge of her nose and exhaled slowly, audibly, her hand perched on the handle to the door as Max pushed the stop button on the recorder. “I don’t know if any of that information was particularly useful but we also have written notations and the clothing that Skye wore yesterday when we arrived on scene. I was the first responder alongside one of my Sergeants, who was on a ride along with me.”

                “More useful than you’d imagine it was,” Scully nodded and noticed the Lieutenant’s awkward stance as she almost white knuckled the door handle. “We’d like those documents and temporarily take over the chain of command on the clothing…we’ll need to process it with our sciences division.”

                “I’ll be right back with those, then,” Perry nodded and left Mulder, Scully, and Max alone in the room after ushering Burroughs out of the room with her, shutting the door significantly quieter than Skye had.

                Scully could’ve gotten the clothing and documentation from the reception or another on duty officer but the motivation of getting Lieutenant Perry to exit the room for a moment was a little more important to her. The mutual, almost group level sigh was evident as Max leaned against the table and slid the recorder into his pocket while Mulder peeked into the bullpen through a gap in the mini-blinds. They were addressing the elephant in the room as Scully’s eyes drifted over their unusually quiet addition to the team, staring a sizable hole through him. He sighed again, muttering under his breath as he felt her eyes on him and finally made eye contact, immediately understanding how it must feel when Scully’s in interrogation mode. He knew that he was certainly in trouble and making Scully wait was a bad idea on more than a singular level.

                “If I have to ask you multiple times why you’ve suddenly gone silent and stoic on us, I’m going to opt for use of physical violence and just smack it out of you,” Scully crossed her arms and leaned against the chair, staring him down. “And I am being incredibly serious about that.”

                “Not that I really needed to be threatened to be motivated to spill my guts this time, but didn’t that woman look oddly familiar to either of you…because she should,” Max’s usual energy had all but waned as he closed his eyes and angled his chin toward the ceiling, inhaling sharply. “I’m pretty sure that somewhere along the way I’ve done something terrible in this life.”

                “Wait, did you date the Lieutenant, Max?” Mulder was half joking as he poked Max in the forehead with his index finger. “Seriously, just say no or I might have to exercise a little less tact and whack you upside your head purely for making it awkward not once but twice in under twenty-four hours.”

                Mulder hadn’t been entirely looking at the woman and that was the truth but Scully had been and noticed that there was something about her that wasn’t quite right as Max gave Mulder the dirtiest of looks, sighing in resignation. “I’m pretty sure that there’d be some sort of crime associated with the actuality if I had dated her, knowing exactly who that woman is and you should feel really bad for even making the intimation about it, really. The Lieutenant is Ava’s twin sister…I wish I were making this shit up but Perry is her married name. Her given name is King, just like Ava. I wonder how long she’s been waiting to work up that little detail.”

                “Neither one of them can actually have previous awareness of the other on this case or it’s immediately considered tampering, Max, and I’m sure that the Lieutenant kept her mouth shut because she remembers you and knew that your reaction would be exactly as it is right now,” Scully gave him a somewhat oppressive, irritated stare. “Hostile.”

                “Max, Scully is right…evidence and witness tampering would jeopardize the case for DC Metro as well as the FBI,” Mulder took another quick peek out into the bullpen where looky-loos were still gathered, pretending to not be paying attention to the room that they still occupied. “It can’t affect the case, from either of them and you can’t let their involvement become a hindrance to your ability to do an effective job…but, now you’ve got me curious.”

                “Mulder,” Scully tried to keep her voice down as she swatted his arm and coaxed a laugh from him, the complete lack of amusement written across her face.

                “Emma is nothing like Ava—no compulsion to lie or become involved in gossip, that was always an Ava thing. Granted, she was always the buttoned up to the chin, no nonsense, man hating kind of girl so it’s astonishing that anyone ever married her,” Max wrinkled his nose and looked over at Scully, shrugging both shoulders, knowing that he was about to push her buttons. “It’s nothing bad, Mom.”

                “I’ll Mom you damn good and you’ll be riding back to your car in the trunk of mine, Max,” Scully’s eyes nearly popped out of her head over the little quip from Max as she got in front of him, narrowing her eyes.

                Mulder made a noise and snatched her at the waist, pulling her back, the laugh half quelled by not knowing if she was serious or not. “Jesus, Scully, no hurting Maximus…we have to return him to Drea in halfway one piece.”

                “He’ll be in one piece, I’m just going to traumatize him for that remark,” Scully had Max holding in his own chuckle despite the very real fact that she could take him in a half a second. “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

                “Now I believe that statement one hundred percent,” Max hid the grin as Mulder held that pose with his arms around Scully in spite of her not actually taking any forward motion, grimacing with every passing second. “Come on, you two, we’re working, I don’t want to see whatever this handsy situation is…knock it off.”

                Mulder raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, amused by the instant flip of the switch in Max’s demeanor as he gave Scully a firm squeeze at her midsection. “See, I was just going for keeping Scully from slapping the taste out of your mouth but you had to go and make it less than innocent. Now, when we leave here, backseat grab-ass could be a thing.”

                “Oh, look at that uncomfortable expression on his face, Mulder,” Scully’s natural hand positioning had her fingertips over the top of Mulder’s, her nails just long enough to be felt as she instinctively glided them along his skin. “That could almost be enough trauma to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the day at the very least?”

                “You’re both so unprofessional,” Max squinted and crossed his arms, thoroughly unamused as Mulder reluctantly separated from behind Scully, rolling his eyes. “We are here to do a job and these little shenanigans are just unnecessary.”

                “Skinner would be so proud of his mad little ranting about being unprofessional,” Mulder grinned and winked at Scully, taking one more look into the bullpen full of cops. “We’re about to have company anyway.”

                The door opened, ushering in Lieutenant Perry all over again, who wore a less than interested or amused expression as she carried a small stack of paperwork with her. The banter had restored the normalcy to the trio in spite of Perry’s completely soured expression and energy as she pushed the door shut with a thud and crossed her arms after tossing the paperwork and evidence onto the table. Mulder eyed Scully, giving her one of those signature “here we go” sorts of expressions as his head tilted and his shoulder blades inadvertently pushed against the mini blinds, making an immediate metallic noise against the glass. Emma Perry was, indeed, shades different than her sister, as she gave a less than pleased glare in their direction, heaving a frustrated sigh as she stepped away from the center adjusted droplight, almost hiding in the shadow.

                “I’ll be requesting the remaining interviews to be held at the FBI to avoid the chorus of visibly bored officers who will be spending a fair amount of time scrubbing toilets with toothbrushes later for sitting outside of the door attempting to eavesdrop,” Emma rolled her eyes, the tone of her voice a little lower than Ava’s and more succinct in pronunciation of each syllable, her tongue clicking on the strong consonants. “You’d think they’ve never had the FBI in the building before and were bored…it’s embarrassing and looks bad on my entire precinct. I apologize.”

                “It’s really nothing we weren’t expecting, Lieutenant,” Scully nodded, noticing her mannerisms taking that turn from pensive to tense in an instant. “This is beyond the standard and it happens in any precinct.”

                “Well, I appreciate the leniency—while I was retrieving the evidence and write ups, I received a call confirming that the timeline for the Lennox’s was considerably shorter than the two previous couples. Adam went missing on the seventh while Kendra went missing just forty-eight hours later, they were found the next day,” Emma opened a singular file in her hand and turned it toward Mulder, noting cause of death as well as time of death. “Skye found the bodies less than four hours after Adam’s death, less than six after Kendra’s.”

                “There was a gap between their deaths?” Mulder took the file and thumbed through the paperwork, showing it to Scully. “Same cause of death, though? Air injection into the jugular for Kendra and blood loss for Adam?”

                “Identical,” Emma glanced at Max, the softening of her expression almost immediate as she inhaled another deep, cleansing breath, exhaling slowly while her eyes directed back toward Mulder. “The gap in time is attributed to the time it took for his heart to stop after his femoral was severed—the gash in the arterial structure was precise and just under one inch long.”

                “Whoever did this knew that it would be a fairly fast void of his blood,” Max nodded, making eye contact with Scully.

                Scully was somewhere adrift in that thought as she pondered over the mental image, deciphering it in pieces as she held her breath and exhaled slow. “It would’ve been an agonizing strain on his heart—and wouldn’t have been quick. He would’ve felt every last breath. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

 

 

 

 

11:45 PM (July 13th)

Henderson Residence

 

                “Mom, I already told you, Justin goes away for days at a time for work – not checking in sometimes is completely normal. He’ll call when he catches a break, I’m sure of it,” Mindy Henderson paced in the kitchen, the enormous length of cord wrapped around three of her fingers as she pushed the dishwasher shut.

                Grace Wickes wasn’t exactly the quietest woman in the world, even over the phone, as her voice came through like a fog horn. “I don’t like the fact that a married man keeps dangerously creeping up on 72 hours missing and suddenly pops up like its nothing literally every time he goes on these assignments of his. One day he’s going to have to grow up and be a man.”

                “One day he’ll have to do a lot of things but his job is his job and he never goes MIA for too long…he has kept his word thus far and you can’t deny that, no matter how upset it makes you that he gets close to being gone for three days with no word,” Mindy reached across the back of the sink to close the mini blinds as the motion sensor caught the dog doing a lap in the backyard, sending the flood light across the grass like a beacon off to the side.

                “Well, your Father would never have done it and Justin should realize that if he ever intends on being a parent that he’s going to have to tell this job of his that he can’t be out disappearing like some CIA operative for days on end,” Grace’s voice sent an irritating shiver down Mindy’s back as she continued on her tirade. “He worries me leaving you alone in that huge house—with no one but that shit for brains dog to keep you company.”

                Grace wasn’t exactly wise to the topic of parenting in the Henderson household as Mindy bit down on her tongue and glanced at the massive bouquet of roses that Justin had put out in hopes of getting her to relent on the topic of babies. He had done a grand gesture at least twice a week for going on six months and the statue standing in the kitchen with the fresh manicure hadn’t budged on the subject, at least not to his face. She hadn’t and the lump in her throat wasn’t helping the matter as she blinked hard to keep the tears from falling. Her Mother didn’t need to know that it wasn’t Justin being a child over the topic of babies—it was her.  Mindy was focused on getting her over-protective mother to calm down for a while before she had a coronary over simply having to deal with her grown, adult child being left alone in her own home for a few nights. God forbid she has a life and a marriage despite how loveless it had become.

                She’s the one that made it that way, after all.

                Mindy sighed, silently rubbing her lips together as she stared at the soapy bubbles in the sink, “I know you mean well but everything is fine—I don’t mind spending a few days at a time alone in this big house. I can make some popcorn and put on a sappy movie, it’ll be great.”

                “Do you want me to come over? I’m sure your Father would love a little alone time to go golfing and he can stretch out on the bed by himself tonight and snore until his heart’s content,” Grace was laughing but Mindy couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the idea of having a girl’s night with her obsessive, overbearing mother as she filled the dishwasher with soap and closed it.

                Mindy adjusted her grip on the phone and slid her hands into the hot, soapy water, gathering the crystal wine glasses with a sponge while she blew a raspberry unintentionally a little louder than she had wanted. “Sure, Mom, but if you’re going to come over will you bring the good cheese? I forgot to pick up some when I went out for groceries this week—we can watch a movie, have a couple glasses of port and eat some cheese with my overly expensive crackers.”

                “Go for that Pocas 94 port, none of that cheap crap that your ridiculous husband likes to drink, Mindy,” Grace’s expensive tastes were more than a little apparent as Mindy’s fully submerged fingers were dangling around a well-made, beautifully constructed wine glass. “It’s bad enough that he keeps dismissing the maids that are supposed to be living with you, cleaning up after you, and addressing your every whim—“

                “You know that he wasn’t raised that way and I really don’t think it’s necessary to have a house full of staff to clean up after two people, Mother,” Mindy pulled the drain stopper from the center of the basin and listened to the water as it swirled down the drain, the hollow echoing through the pipes. “One day you’re going to have to find some common ground with your son-in-law instead of finding any excuse to hate him.”

                “I don’t hate him—I just wish he’d give me grandchildren, already,” Grace sighed into the phone and sent another pang of guilt through Mindy’s spine as she spun the cord around the tips of her fingers.

                “Some things are not meant to be, Mom,” Mindy swallowed hard and looked down at her perfectly pedicured feet before taking a couple of steps toward the island aimed toward the expansive living room. “At least not right now…anyway…hurry up and come over before I change my mind.”

                “Okay, okay, okay. I’ll be there in a just a few,” Grace’s voice went up a notch, the rattling of objects nearby catching in Mindy’s ear.

                “Don’t forget the cheese!” Mindy had her receiver almost all of the way away from her face as she approached the base of the phone, gathering the cord as she walked.

                “Ok, see you in a bit, love you,” Grace didn’t wait for the affirming response as she hung up on her end, giving Mindy the out to hang up her own side.

                The relief of not having to listen to her Mother’s incessant, bitter rambling was unreal as Mindy pushed the phone against the base, hearing the gentle click of the mechanism as it shoved into place. Reality was unfair and she didn’t want her Mother, or anyone for that matter, to know that Justin wasn’t the villain of their relationship—in so many words. He was not her first choice in a husband and she made him suffer through it, to the point of forcibly taking away their only chance at a child. She knew that the cheating was a direct result of hearing the words “I don’t want babies with you” from her lips before she even said “I do”. Monstrous as it was, she always felt it was simply being honest and he carried out the marriage like he was ok with it so she couldn’t think otherwise until after the accident happened and the response that followed. He wanted to start coming up with baby names and Mindy had already gotten rid of it.

                She stamped out what could’ve been his little girl or little boy and did nothing but stare at him while he sobbed for days.

                She felt nothing as she watched the tragic reality unfold in front of him, putting him into the unimaginable scenario that he never fully prepared for. She never even flinched. Not once.

                Her eyes found the roses and lingered over them, her gray hued blues hollow as she thumbed a fallen petal. Too little, too late—no chance to forgive and forgetting was not an option for either of them anymore. Mindy pressed her neutrally shaded lips together, rubbing the matte shade of color back into place as she blinked slowly, the absence of emotion passing over her as the roses reflected in her eyes, her pupils small and unaffected. She truly had become a shell of a woman in more ways than one as the stone had taken shape, rooting into the place in her chest where a heart did beat under the necessity of a pretense, not out of love. She deserved every bit of hate that he chose not to direct at her and knew that straying from their formality of a bed was merely to get back at her for taking the one thing that he had wanted, that she didn’t want to relent on.

                “Should’ve listened to me,” Her voice carried again as she turned away from his loud and clear declarative symbol of affection, the irritation building in her stomach. “I never wanted any of this…why wouldn’t you just agree to be happy without me?”

                Mindy pulled her terry cloth robe shut, tying it around her waist with an aggressive expression plastered on her face as she steered her way into the living room, clearing away the remnants of her previous night’s bottle of wine that had been consumed. She tossed it into the recycling bin with a little too much fierceness, shattering it inside of the blue plastic bin in that very instant, sending shards of glass all over the bottom of it. The sound was horrendous and made her spin around, flip on every light in the kitchen to flood the room with light as she started to double check every square foot of the marble tile for any stray particles of cloudy, green glass. She muttered under her breath as she took careful steps, not noticing anything, blaming the broken bottle on continuing to dwell on her marital issues. There was a fairly decent amount of fault in it as she slid her bare feet across the cold marble, desperately scanning the expanse of the floor for signs of anything that did not belong.

                “Son of a bitch!” Mindy’s loud, pain filled groan echoed through the empty house as her left foot found a small piece of jagged glass, piercing through the space that met the curve of her arch.

                She lifted her foot and steadied herself against the counter, the tiny, green object shimmering at her like it was gloating with fresh, red blood pooling around it where it had cut into the softer part of her skin. Mindy’s exhale left through a space between her lips, the hiss audible as she nearly slammed her hand against the island, her fingertips immediately going white as she pressed them into the granite as though she expected it to give under the weight of her hand. She winced as she pulled the glass free and tossed it into the trash, the throbbing immediately following as she stood on her tiptoes to retrieve a Band-Aid from the hall bathroom, avoiding the blood from touching her freshly steamed carpets. This was not how she wanted to finish her Tuesday night waiting for her Mother to arrive, that was for certain.

                “Are you trying to make your Mother think you need a baby sitter, because that’s how you make your Mother think you need a baby sitter,” She angled her foot against the counter of the sink and poured peroxide across the wound, watched it bubble and listened to the hiss of liquid as it did its job.

                The tiny spurt of blood was an irritation as she took a section of tissue and dabbed it until it halfway stopped before sliding a flesh colored Band-Aid across it, pressing it in place until she knew it was secure. The pain was as close to a feeling that she had been able to experience in weeks as she slid her foot down from the counter, purposely applying weight against the spot to remind her that glass had been there. In a certain way, the little, nagging ache now coursing through her arch was completely reminding Mindy that it was almost a penitence for inflicting sorrow upon her husband and severing a bond that hadn’t even fully formed, something that hadn’t even been confessed in prayer. A priest would certainly tell her exactly how wicked her deeds had been as she held her fingers to the precious set of pearls against her clavicle, reminding her of the high society level lady that she was, in spite of the internal ravages of guilt that now ran through her veins.

                Her life was starting to sound like a really terrible country song and she knew that it simply brought her shame to even fathom what her husband thought of her, deep down. This was the bed that she made and the sheets were dirty.

                She looked herself over in the mirror and ran her fingers through the mid-length, chestnut and caramel, overly processed hair with little waves along the tips, the lighter tones shimmering in the light. She was certainly well-put-together but it couldn’t have been further from the truth as she wiped the powdery excess from underneath of her eyes, leaning forward until she was only a few inches from the mirror, looking at the reflection like she didn’t recognize it anymore. She needed to snap out of it before her Mother arrived but something told her she was going to blame it on starting in on the wine a little early in spite of that being a fat lie. With any luck, her Mother would buy it without a second glance like she almost always did.

                “Pull yourself together, you’ll give everything away and then you’ll have to explain yourself,” Mindy frowned, the lines on her face becoming that much more apparent as she flipped the light in the bathroom off and wandered into the hallway, humming to herself.

                The self-condemnation happily took a comfortable almost blended position with the halfway egotistical rage brewing in her chest as she went back into the kitchen and pulled the small, gold rimmed wine glasses from the hanging display, precariously dangling them between her fingers on her left hand. She eyed the wine case and pulled it open, gathering an unopened bottle of Colheita 1964 from Pocas. Her mother would be proud of the choice as she thumbed over the label while her foot shoved the door shut, the crystal echoing against one another as she turned toward the living room. Mindy gathered an opener across her thumb, the cool surface of the flooring under her feet pushing against the bandaged little puncture on her skin.

                Justin and Mindy’s house was one of those overpriced and overdone, recently upgraded buildings that had housed the richest of the rich at the turn of the early 1900s—complete with the second level overlook above the living room. Justin was a little bit reticent about owning it since the money came almost entirely from her side of the family but Mindy insisted and chose it out of at least a dozen different options…all of which were cheaper. She knew there was a buried feeling that Justin had, deep in his gut, that she chose the house to stick it to him but she rather liked the atmosphere of being able to lose oneself in a home, completely. She glanced up at the marbled railing above her and admired the stunning chandelier that had been a wedding gift from her grandparents, smiling momentarily as she carefully set the glassware and bottle onto the glass coffee table. The light was soft, almost glowing from overhead and from the outside, downward lit pool light, the sliding glass door opened to the softest of summer breezes.

                It was in that moment that she almost found herself secretly desiring a little thunder, lightning, and some rain to go along with the semi-stiff wind rustling through the brush and trees.

                She inhaled a deep breath as the sound of the wind chimes in the gazebo hummed and clanged with the shifting of the wind, her hair moving across her shoulders just enough to make her notice it sliding into the space between the terry cloth and her skin. The impulse was almost robotic as she reached for the stereo remote, cranking up the volume on Placebo’s rendition of “Running up that hill” to a point that the bass in the uprights vibrated through the carpeting. Mindy had that stoic, almost icy grace about her as she stood like a woman half scorned, staring out at the water as it barely moved with the wind. She took pride in that stance, knowing that she could nearly slap the taste from the mouth of her nearest victim in a moment’s notice, without warning. She let the melody flow over her, gathering in the places of her heart that had gone cold to the touch and placed the remote back on the table before picking up the bottle of wine. The conclusion of opening too many bottles in the more recent of months had been thoroughly met when the action was almost instinctive and a blur as she popped the cork free and sniffed the freshly exposed portion, taking in the fragrant, almost pungent odor that had been released from the aged bottle.

                Sweet yet agonizing—not unlike herself. The irony.

                It was strong and invaded all of her senses as it made every hair on the back of her neck stand on end while she inhaled every note of citrus, muddled berries, and the remnant, almost dulled scent of the barrel that it had aged in. She held the cork between her fingers below her nose, the mechanism still coiled into it, for a good moment while the bottle stayed in the other hand before her focus went to the glass, pouring the first until it was halfway up the side. Mindy’s focus was almost entirely on the water as she put the bottle on the table along with the cork and screw, leading the glass immediately to her lips where it lingered as she felt the words “let me steal this moment from you now” hit her square in the chest like a dart splitting her in two, shattering the hardened exterior of her heart like so much glass. She sipped the liquid, resisting the tears that desperately wanted to fall and felt the ache as the song faded softly into the abyss.

                “Judgmental, fucking, music,” Mindy muttered and rolled her eyes as her free hand rolled across each little pearl, feeling each one before finally meeting skin with her icy fingers.

                The chance happening of the random skip on the turntable couldn’t have been better timed as she heard the far away hymn of “Frozen”, the bitterly perfect anthem in her current state as she swallowed her first mouthful of the sweet liquid. Mindy swayed as the drum took over and the hum of the melancholy flow of the song that carried her to a place where she knew, under the cadence of her heart, that her soul was reaching out. She identified with each syllable as Madonna’s voice began to ring out, soaked in emotional transference as her feet guided her into a circle, her hair swaying in an outward motion like her pearls and the robe. She sang along with the music in poor tone and pitch, almost too loudly, between drinks and met the mirror hanging above the fireplace, the angry light of the orange and red hues dancing off her own skin.

                “You don’t deserve him and you never did—he’s better off alone,” She was angry at her own reflection as she caught sight of the vapid, angry looking face looking back at her, the tips of her fingers reaching for the perfectly pristine surface of the mirror.

                Mindy blinked hard and backed away from the fireplace, pouring herself another glass as the winding refrain of the strings began to build within her, amplifying the energy all over again. She was in another world as the anger brewed and the urge to control it was slipping away with every breath that she took. It had been a silent battle cry up until this point as she undulated almost primitively across the carpet, flicking the lights completely off in the room to restore the room to near darkness aside from the shifting light of the pool and firelight against her. There was catharsis in it and energy building up in such a maneuver as she looked into the flame and took a healthy drink of the wine, dribbling just a little bit down the side of her lip in the process. Mindy was losing her grip on everything as she felt the rage finally spill over with a loud vocalization that led to the shattering of her wine glass against the mirror.

                The sobbing immediately followed the demonstration of her indignation, her chest heaving as her hair fell into her face, covering her eyes. She shook for a moment and knew that nothing could be the same anymore as she gathered her hand at her forehead, pushing the hair back as she lifted her eyes from the spot against the carpet that she had been staring at. The smeared, reddish vision of herself started to come into focus as she followed that streak of wine until her eyes were parallel with her own reflection. The music still played as she closed her eyes for a long moment, sighing softly as the white flag began to wave within her heart, waiting to make the choice to look up rather than down, forward rather than backward. She was ready to make that change for herself and not just for Justin.

                “Could tonight possibly get any worse?” Mindy’s voice was notches above a whisper and strained as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, the onset of a throbbing headache awakening between her eyeballs.

                Her eyelids fluttered open as she focused her vision forward and furrowed her brow as the image within the mirror captured her attention in the worst of ways. The distinctive odor of perfume hit her nostrils and nearly brought her off balance as the notes of vanilla, amber, and musk guided its way through her system, reminding her of that JPG Classique eau de parfum that had been sprayed one too many times in her general direction at a department store. It was intoxicating and didn’t belong to her. She squinted as her solo figure became two as a taller, somewhat shrouded one with strikingly red lips, haunting green eyes, and jet black hair smiled back at her as she took a final step to eclipse the shrinking distance behind Mindy’s smaller figure. Her reaction was delayed as her mouth went agape and no sound would emit in the split second delay before the woman’s significant strength was put on display as she wrapped an arm around Mindy’s neck and yanked her backwards. Nothing about the scenario felt real to Mindy as she clawed at the latex material that covered the woman’s arm from knuckle to neck, tight against her like skin. The struggle was admirable but futile as the taller, more skilled woman behind her utilized her height to completely stop her from being able to fully move one of her two legs.

                “You should never ask if anything could get any worse,” the voice was silky in her ear and sent a chill down her spine, the tone soft, almost soothing in spite of the situation. “It’s going to get worse, Mrs. Henderson.”

                Hearing her own last name set Mindy into a fit of panic as her fingers gathered along the slick, black sleeve across her neck as her nose and mouth became completely covered, snagging the string of pearls with her index. The tug against the necklace was clumsy yet firm as her entire arm flailed in an outward motion, popping every pearl free, sending them flying onto the carpet in a haphazard pattern like flying glass. Mindy was hopeless in her efforts to get out of the secure grip of her assailant as she felt the air becoming thin in her lungs, swirling around as everything became a little hazy. She elbowed her with her left arm and barely felt the woman flinch, the strength nearly indestructible as she felt the woman’s rigid stance adjust, becoming stiff like a board behind her. The woman behind her needed only the minimal energy to exert maximum damage as she wrapped her free arm around Mindy’s flailing arm and put the smallest amount of thumb, index, and middle finger pressure on the median and musculocutaneous nerves near her bicep, pulling her arm down toward her side to keep her from moving.

                The pain was unbearable as Mindy’s motor functions immediately became compromised starting with her ability to see as the haze set in and the slow motion took over. If she had been able to scream, the noise that came out would almost certainly been ragged, throaty, and grating on the ears but the sound simply deadened against the glossy, thick material of her assailant’s clothing. She had done her level best to fight but the lack of oxygen and the impulse wracking two of her major nerves was more than enough as she started to lose the battle with consciousness, succumbing to the waiting shroud of a blackout. It wasn’t at all comforting to what was left of her mental impulses as her eyelids held on for the last moments, the echo of her stereo ringing in her ears as she became dead weight in the arms of the woman that knew her name—and knew how to navigate her home without being seen until it was too late.

                “Such a pretty, little thing,” that silky, seductive voice was still washing over Mindy despite the state of insentience she was in as the woman adjusted her grip, hoisting her over her shoulder. “You ruined your pearls.”

 

 

 

1:10 AM

FBI Building, Washington DC

Mulder and Scully’s Office

 

                Mulder was pacing the floor with an open file folder, the contents of a coroner’s report beginning to read more like the instruction manual to a stereo as his vision was half blurring. He took a breath and rubbed his forehead, concentrating on the spot between his eyebrows as a heavy sigh left his lips, capturing the attention of the worse-for-the-wear redhead sitting in his chair. Scully looked up at him, sans her shoes, with her feet tucked under her like she had completely abandoned the ladylike positioning while she scoured through an equally riveting set of files. Mulder felt her eyes drifting over him as he turned around and allowed his own, worn out gaze to meet hers, finagling a little, crooked grin from her in the process. For a moment, it looked as though they were alone in the office until Max’s hand sprung up from the floor, his hand clutching a piece pf paper with a bright, yellow highlight near the center of the page. He wiggled it around as it went up and over the top of the desk, his fingers pushing the document across the top of the stack of papers, a solitary grunt leaving his lips as he came up off of his haunches from his haphazard little camp on the floor.

                “Amobarbital sodium was found in trace amounts in the female victims?” Scully was leaning across, her hands balancing against the chair as she glanced at the paperwork that Max had just highlighted. “Seems a little redundant when concerning an air embolism via oxygen injection…”

                Max was utilizing his jacket as a makeshift seat as he scooted backwards, sitting more comfortably with his legs in an Indian style positioning, barely able to see Scully over the mountain of paperwork. “I don’t think it was directly prior to their deaths—I think it was hours prior to keep them compliant in low doses so that they were forced to witness the brutalization of their partners. They had very little defensive wounds aside from the typical, beginning stage kind associated with being abducted by an assailant. All wounds after are minor until the singular puncture to the neck that caused the air embolism.”

                “Quick. Efficient. Nearly painless,” Mulder leaned against the back of the chair he had been sitting in, glancing at the paper, taking in the myriad of other chemical analytics that the paperwork entailed. “Doesn’t Amobarbital sodium cause hallucinations in most patients, though?”

                “It’s a less common side effect and usually only when in high doses—or in patients with a sensitivity to the medication,” Scully shook her head and rubbed her chin, leaning against her other palm as she felt a wave of sleepiness hit her. “It’s most commonly used in sleep therapies.”

                “Yeah, but that’s the kind of additive that is used with ether or chloroform, less common for the sleep disorders,” Max was gathering the chemical printouts of the measurables, his eyebrows elevated in spite of the dragging eyelids that were now plaguing him. “The proposed measurables were somewhere in the realm of twenty milligrams of the drug…enough to create a state of—”

                “Malleability,” Mulder’s tone was a notch from withdrawn as he had his eyes on Scully, the interest in her wrists somewhat overcoming as he slid the chair forward and coaxed a healthy grunt out of her in the process as he pulled both above her head.

                “Mulder, what in the hell are you doing?” Scully’s back straightened and eyes snapped open as she became completely alert, her hands above and behind her head by way of Mulder’s significantly stronger grip.

                “As in this little maneuver wouldn’t take much effort if one is receiving a little dose of a drug typically meant to knock one completely unconscious or close to it that the recipient wouldn’t be able to fight back,” Mulder was wiggling Scully’s wrists, his thumbs massaging the pressure point at the curve of her palm.

                Max smirked, eyes barely over the stacked high inbox at the awkward demonstration in front of him as Mulder continued to hold onto Scully’s wrists in that pose in spite of her awkward, irritated grunting. “Well, I don’t think that we needed a demonstration to understand the point that you’re making but yes, that particular dosage would be exactly what would be necessary to keep a victim of Scully’s general size distribution fairly pliant or close to unconscious.”

                “I think you’ve made your point, you should consider letting go now before you feel nothing but my elbow to your testes,” Scully raised both of her eyebrows and shot him a backwards glance, the less than amused tone coming out through her teeth as she forced a fake smile at him.

                Mulder let them go with a certain reluctance, as he was almost sure that she’d do it anyway simply out of spite as he sucked both of his lips into his mouth, gasping audibly. “You know I’m quite attached to those.”

                “Oh, I know you are, Mulder,” Scully smirked and watched him moved back over to the chair he had been leaning on, her teeth instinctively chewing on the inside of her cheek as she lingered over him a little longer than necessary. “That should provide a loud and clear lesson not to restrain me as a demonstration.”

                “So, what you’re saying is…later, then?” Mulder winked at her and sank back down into the chair, crossing his leg fairly wide as he gathered a small stack of paperwork to continue perusing.

                “It is entirely too late for me to listen to this conversation and you two seem to do this every time I’m down here,” Max cut Scully off from actually making an attempt at continuing the heavily flirtatious banter as he made a face and a gagging noise while leaning against another set of file cabinets. “You two flirt more than any teenager I’ve ever met in my entire life and you make me and Drea look damn near innocent.”

                “Well, you and Drea are still, by definition, new to this so the description of innocent might actually fit just a bit,” Mulder blurted it out and glanced over at Scully, who had her bottom lip firmly between her teeth. “I’m an old pro at this flirting with Scully, thing, and you’re so funny when you get all uncomfortable and uptight about it.”

                Scully had her eyes on an open folder but her brain was working on the more feminine of thoughts as her tongue leaped into action prior to allow the string of words to develop fully. “Max, there might be an opportunity to learn something from the way Mulder flirts that could help you out in more ways than one.”

                “Oh, you went there,” Mulder nearly choked on his tongue and the stale coffee alike as he held the half-filled mug in his hand, eyes darting toward her as he swallowed, coughed, and laughed in unison.

                Max had his bottom lip out, fully pouting even though the comment was rightfully amusing in the worst of ways as both were laughing at him over Scully’s unintended cleverness. “Why is it that all of the funniest remarks usually have me at the ass end of the comment?”

                “Sounds like I’m missing out on a really funny joke in here,” Drea’s voice came from the doorway along with the distinctive odor of Thai food as she rattled plastic bags in the doorway, both eyebrows raised in the air out of curiosity. “Do I want to know?”

                “Your doofus walked into a punchline as per usual,” Mulder smirked and tossed the paperwork onto the top of the pile, exhaling heavily while rubbing the somewhat dire need for sleep out of his eyes.

                Max looked up at Drea in her comfortable, bordering on pajama pants and relaxed tee shirt that he could have sworn was one of his, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, looking every bit as beautiful as she did all done up earlier. “You should be well past expired, asleep in bed with the TV on as per usual—what are you doing here?”

                “You know that statement is only a half-truth after a big consult, I only got home at eight and already went into full anal retentive mode planning things and I may, or may not have, spilled an entire container of glitter in the bed, by the way,” Drea gathered the plastic bags in the empty chair that Max had abandoned, a smile curving on her lips as she continued. “As for why I’m here…a lovely, bald birdy told me that you three were still here and might be jonesing for something to eat? I was still awake so I figured I could at least bring you something.”

                “Didn’t we have this discussion about glitter in the bedroom, Drea?” Max shook his head as she was pulling hot containers of Thai food from the plastic and paper bags, her eyes purposely avoiding his stare, her bottom lip perched in her mouth as the pink flushed her cheeks. “Oh my Christ, seriously…I can see that look on your face and you’re worse than a cat.”

                “This one over here has a fabulously thoughtful girlfriend who brought food for everyone and he’s getting sassy over having to canoodle with her in bed over the top of some craft glitter,” Mulder rolled his eyes and started helping Drea maneuver the food onto the desk, clearing away paperwork in the process. “Scully, remind me to stop at a Michael’s when it’s light out.”

                “Mulder, shut up,” Scully rolled her eyes and stood as Max was getting to his feet, his arms already wrapping around Drea’s shoulders from the back. “This was exactly what we were all contemplating going to go get and it was very thoughtful, Drea….you didn’t need to do that.”

                “I’d imagine that three word phrase has been used a time or seventy around here as a directive,” Drea giggled and opened a container of curry, releasing that strong, half spicy aroma into the air that invited a hunger driven groan from everyone in the room. “That incredibly anticipatory sound alone makes looking for one of only three twenty-four hour Thai food places open in the area completely worth it, for the record. When you get a phone call from the Assistant Director asking if you’re awake and dressed—the only question you ask is ‘were you trying to call me?’ followed by simply searching for pants to move your ass.”

                “Just be grateful it wasn’t ‘what are you wearing’ because well, a frisky Walter Skinner is kind of like spotting Bigfoot,” Mulder snorted as Drea handed him a Styrofoam bowl with a crooked smile on her face.

                Scully gave Mulder a healthy smack to the arm as she came up beside him, earning a big grin from him in the process. “You are terrible and mean.”

                Max snuck a much needed, quick but affectionate kiss from Drea as she handed him a bowl of curry, angling up on her tiptoes to meet him. “This was definitely needed, shortstack….thank you for answering Skinner’s call and going the extra mile with the Thai food.”

                “It’s been a lengthy day, for everyone, and it was the least I could do knowing what all of you are facing,” Drea glanced around the room with her eyebrows furrowed, the confusion washing over her. “Although, I was half expecting to see the Amazon hiding in the corner…did you three sufficiently freak her out enough to make her not want to spend a late night in this office or was it because of this sharply dressed little redhead bringing the Thai food? It was the latter, wasn’t it?”

                Scully laughed after swallowing a decent bite of the Massaman curry, the mid-level heat staying at the back of her throat just enough to make her feel her nostrils running. “Agent King was here until about 11:30 and got a phone call from the precinct about some paperwork that had come in…she didn’t give any ETA on when she’d be back, if at all.”

                “Come to think of it, her communication skills leave a little something to be desired and we've likely spent more time going over previously compiled evidence than we have actually spent hearing her point of view,” Mulder was relieved first the meal on an entirely different level as he felt the second wind of energy start to course through him with each sizzling bite he took.

                Max rolled his eyes and took a bite of chicken, carrot, and a healthy swirl of curry as Drea glanced back at him. “I’m opting for embarrassment since we’re all playing a healthy game of discover the next skeleton in the closet with this case surrounding our investigators and not our victims. She probably thinks we are all more than a little bit apprehensive about working with her and are highly suspicious of her investigatory background.”

                “Well, that doesn’t sound loaded at all,” Drea took a bite of curry soaked rice and met gazes with Max, her eyes seeking out an affirmation. “Was it really that bad?”

                “Bad is a very subjective word to use in this situation,” Mulder angled himself forward and wiped a little bit of curry from the corner of Scully’s mouth, earning that smirk that had graced her lips multiple times from catching her being a bit amiss with her fork. “You’re not even using your fingers, Scully…how are you this messy?”

                “After all of these years, you’re still shocked when I end up with a little bit of food at the corner of my mouth?” Scully rolled her eyes at the question, realizing that he was completely baiting her into banter over her gracelessness with a fork. “You keep it up and you’re headed down a dark path of sleeping on the floor.”

                “You wouldn’t…” Mulder had a dumpling dangling precariously on his fork, the look of dejection on his face as she openly threatened him, her eyebrow raised.

                Max and Drea had gotten used to the banter between Mulder and Scully but he was more interested in just getting it out in the open as he watched his overly curious and determined girlfriend give him the eyebrow with a fork up by her lips, a dumpling steaming in front of her face. “Ava has a twin sister and we walked into the precinct today to discover that said twin sister is the Lieutenant that has responded to the crime scenes—and either Ava has failed to tell us about it, didn’t really think it was relevant, or she didn’t really put two and two together with her own sister’s name written on every incoming document for the crime scenes that it would be relevant. Either way, the Lieutenant was visibly chafed to see me standing in the interrogation room.”

                “Wait, there’s two of them?” Drea nearly choked on the dumpling and instinctively swatted Max on the arm as she did a double-take at him. “I swear to all that is holy if you dated both of them I will seriously lose my mi—”

                “Why is that everyone’s go to assumption over this topic? Drea, I didn’t date Ava’s sister—that’s fucking weird,” Max scrunched up his entire face and nearly spilled his plate on himself in the process. “I actually used to think that Emma was completely not into men. She always gave off that distinctly man-hating vibe whenever I was around.”

                “Are we talking Patricia Highsmith here or more like Patty and Selma because there is a very large, powerful distinction that you should make?” Drea knew that the comment was loaded as she heard Mulder clear his throat from behind a fork full of rice, his eyes drifting toward Scully.

                “You really are tired making 1950s closeted author reference right alongside a Simpson’s reference to clarify which brand of lesbian I am referring to,” Max smirked and planted a loving kiss on her lips, his free hand sliding along the curve of her neck.

                Drea hummed a little over the much needed yet surprising display of affection as she pulled back and sighed a little bit, wrinkling her nose. “I am tired—but you must be tired, too. Have you kids reached a stopping place or am I going to go jump into that cloud of glitter I left in the sheets by myself?”

                “I don’t know…” Max casually tilted his head in Mulder’s direction and smirked a little while he snaked an arm around Drea’s waistline. “Are we at a stopping point tonight since it’s officially nearing daylight hours or are we waiting for Ava to continue her non-existent form of communication?”

                “There’s no reason to keep burning the candle at both ends,” Mulder tossed the empty plate into the trash and gathered up a stack of files, sliding everything into Scully’s satchel that was sitting on the floor. “I don’t know about anyone else but waiting around for the elusive lead investigator on this case to decide whether or not she wants to grace us with her presence with it nearing two in the morning.”

                Scully lifted a pen and jotted down a note on a piece of paper, her eyes glancing up at Mulder as the space was cleared of the documents related to the case, readying it to be taken home. “I will put this on the door and if she walks down here after we leave then she’ll know we’ll just see her after seven.”

                The air of exhaustion had returned in spite of how deeply awake they had become with the needed consumption of a meal but the lingering feeling of sleeplessness had taken over again with the quiet. Max and Drea cleared away the leftovers, consolidating the remnants into a small bag with only two containers leftover, making sure that everything was closed up and ready to go while Mulder and Scully focused their attention on re-organizing the hell that lay before them. Scully’s hands were lingering over a stack of coroner’s reports, her brain still swirling over the details of the physical condition of the three men that had been killed. Something was standing out to her and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it until it started to stick out like a sore thumb on the page as the eye witness reports relating to the male victims sat side by side with the coroner’s reports.

                “Mulder, Max…have either of you noticed that every eye witness keeps mentioning that these men left with a woman from each location that they had been at?” Scully tilted her head and moved her eyes toward Mulder, wrinkling her eyebrows just a little.

                “I hadn’t gotten that far in the eye witness report pages,” Mulder shook his head as he closed the satchel and stiffened his jaw while he glanced over her shoulder to look.

                “Jacob Summers was witnessed by three separate people leaving a restaurant with a woman with short, blue hair. Spencer Ashton left a downtown nightclub with a woman in go-go boots and long, pink hair,” Scully read the descriptions with emphasis on their physical appearance, shaking her head as she finished the final one. “Finally, Adam Lennox was in the immediate vicinity of a bar with a woman who had short, curly blond hair, multiple witnesses saw him leaving with her. There’s a lot more about the physical description but the hair is something that is sticking out to me.”

                “All of these men had either wives or were engaged—and obviously cheated the night they went missing,” Max chewed the corner of his lip for a second as he fought for the mental process, his dark circles under his eyes a little more prominent with the lack of sleep. “Either this woman or women were assisting in the endeavor or they were directly responsible for the plight of the men and their partners.”

                “They could’ve been watched for weeks and didn’t even know it,” Mulder glanced through the twelve pages of testimonials, the reaches of fatigue biting at his consciousness as he squinted at the headings, scrutinizing as much as he could. “None of it makes sense—the physicality it would require to lift men of their size is considerable and I’m not getting body builder from any of these descriptions, are you?”

                “Never underestimate a woman angry enough with a man to want him to suffer,” Drea was standing by the door, her bottom lip reddened from biting on it as she held onto the bag of leftovers as she captured their attention. “We all know the level of crazy that ran rampant in my gene pool and we’re pint sized. It doesn’t sound like this woman, or women, is really lacking in the height department? Add a desire to do damage?”

                “Astute observation and one that just widened this already muddled profile,” Scully placed the last of the documents into the shoulder bag that she brought with her and flicked the side lamp off, maneuvering toward the door.

                Mulder was the last to walk out of the office and leaned over toward Drea, who seemed a little embarrassed about her rather assertive comment as he pulled the door shut. “Remind me again why you are an interior decorator and not already running a division?”

                Drea let out a laugh and shook her head as the group started toward the elevator, with Scully lagging behind just a touch after she pushed the sticky note against the outside of the door. The question was flattering but had a lot of truth buried in it and Drea knew it as she held onto the bag within her left hand, her right curled around Max’s. She appreciated the thought and knew that Mulder was acutely aware of that notion as she nodded in his direction, that singular sign of understanding between them. Scully elbowed Mulder just enough to get his attention and winked as he turned his head, both of them fully engrossed in the idea of getting into one of their beds as long as it was next to the other. Mulder had an inkling it would be his place tonight since it was a slightly quicker drive and Scully was enjoying the fact that the once encumbered by old files was now a working, operating bedroom that got slept in—when she was around.

                The dinging of the elevator brought their attention forward as the doors opened, momentarily giving them that jolt they needed to press on. As they were about to take a step forward, Ava’s equally worn out expression caught them completely unaware as she nearly knocked over Drea as she started to rush forward. Drea grunted and sidestepped her, noting immediately that her rough vanilla and currant perfume was barely hiding the distinct scent of sweat underneath. Her hair was equally a mess, pulled roughly into a ponytail with bumps from where she had been pulling it tight out of frustration multiple times, makeup a little less than perfect as it had been hours earlier. She looked like she hand been run through the wringer.

                “Jesus Christ almighty,” Ava nearly dropped her purse as she instinctively grasped Drea at the shoulders, directly staring down at her, her lipstick fading and bleeding at the edges just a little, her chest heaving almost to an uncomfortable point for Drea. “You four scared the hell out of me!”

                “What the hell happened to you?” Max didn’t mince words as he looked at just how disheveled she had become since they had seen her earlier, a far cry from her well pressed self.

                Ava cleared her throat and carefully let go of Drea, nervously smiling in the process as she took a couple of labored breaths while she adjusted the purse anchored across her shoulder. “I have been chasing the last line of paperwork and processing to get final jurisdiction on the case—it’s been a mess. I am almost certain that I have done the same set of paperwork at least thirteen times. I was just on my way down here to tell everyone that I was pulling the plug on the evening but it looks like that task is already done?”

                “We all work a little better on at least a few hours of recharge,” Mulder couldn’t help but notice how quickly she had unraveled and found himself concerned over the passing of time if this case became lengthy at all. “Looks like we all could use it.”

                “Oh, yes, absolutely,” Ava started to back into the elevator, leading them into the space with her. “By the way, is there anything new that you found in the files while I was away chasing my tail and dealing with all of the bureaucratic bullshit?”

                “Absolutely everything we may have discovered should wait until we’ve gotten some sleep, we’ll see you in the morning?” Scully was relieved when the elevator doors opened to the lobby, giving the group the fastest of outs to make a fairly quick getaway from having to continue talking when Ava didn’t exactly seem fully focused.

                Ava nodded, her eyes distant and quite aloof as she swallowed hard, the deer-in-the-headlights part of her on display as she wiped the already smudged eyeliner from the corners of her eyes. “Oh…yeah…I’ll see everyone after seven then?”

                The confirmation was nonverbal as nodding seemed the like the only option as Mulder, Scully, Max, and even Drea were left a little dumbfounded over their incredibly green counterpart that looked like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump, unaware completely that it was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for the patience in waiting for this – I have so many things going on right now (my health) and I was becoming overwhelmed. I thank all of you for continuing to stick it out with me on this journey. Please continue into chapter four.
> 
> Monika, you have easily kept me from giving up…I am endlessly appreciative. 
> 
> References Made:  
> Patty and Selma Bouvier – The Simpsons  
> Patricia Highsmith – storied novelist – if you have not seen the film Carol, yet, please do. It is based on one of her books AND her own life (she is the character that Rooney Mara plays). 
> 
> Songs:   
> “Running Up that Hill” – Placebo  
> “Frozen” – Madonna
> 
> All police rankings are based on DC Metros actual ranking systems; medical references were double and triple checked, they are also based on systems utilized in the 90s (trying to stay away from modern)
> 
> To Skye Moon and Lee…you’re both saints and I certainly hope that my loosely based references are not irritating to either of you.


	4. The Inbetween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the continuing murder trial of Miles, Mulder and Scully are confronted by the VCU with a case that bears strikingly similar patterns by their, now infamous, psychopath on trial. 
> 
> *Strictly for timeline use, this is likely post – “The Unnatural” due to the reference to July and summer in the episode (and there will be small mentions of Monday through Milagro for contextual purposes and some story premise but only in very brief detail*
> 
> Another couples’ lives hang in the balance as torture takes a shocking turn as revelations are made about the victims and their assailant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Description of torture via manual choking and stabbing/slicing, proceed with caution**
> 
> **There be smut here**
> 
> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

_Light is easy to love._

_Show me your darkness._

-R. Queen

 

2:30 AM, Wednesday, July 14th

6000 Block of Grove Drive

Belle Haven Neighborhood

Alexandria, VA

 

                Justin had been unconscious for virtually two hours, his body wracked by the pain of the restraints against his ankles and wrists along with the deep cuts down both arms and along his well-defined thigh muscles. He was worse for the wear and caught between the light and the dark as the sweat glistened on his skin, dripping down the curves of his nose, down his neck, and along his collarbone. He was weak and the paleness had taken over as the blood loss had been considerable, numbness setting in throughout his joints as he moved his weight from one side of his body to the other, taking the stress off of his back as he nearly tumbled backward, touching the cold cement wall. Agony wasn’t a broad enough term for the feeling running through him as he inhaled and felt the air barely entering his lungs, the wheeze almost unbearable as he felt his entire chest wall start to tighten with every exhale. If anything had been floating in his belly, it would’ve almost certainly been expelled with a violent force as he started to stir, the nausea imminent from jostling to his rib region.

                “Wakey, wakey, Mister Henderson,” that familiar, almost lulling voice had his heart beat thudding up in his throat as his assailant combed her fingers through his hair, tugging his head up until his face was angled up at her. “Don’t want to be rude, we have company.”

                Justin’s eyes opened and rolled around as he struggled to focus, staring up at her until she redirected his face toward the opposite wall, roughly holding him in place as his eyes finally stopped spinning in his sockets. The realization of what her end game was finally became horrifyingly clear as he was less than fifteen feet from his wife, in a seated position, wearing only her ripped nightgown, a welt across her neck from the string of pearls, hair hanging across her face. He shook his head within the woman’s grip, the hysterics beginning before he could even fully blink as he struggled against the chains, gritting his teeth. The reaction, while expected, did nothing more than encourage a healthy grin from the red lipped woman as she towered over him, her manicured fingers releasing their grip on his scalp.

                “Mindy…honey…God,” Justin’s eyes were straight forward, aimed at Mindy as she stayed fairly still, her subtle rising and falling of her chest the only indication that she was still alive. “What did you do to her?”

                The graceful walk between her victims was almost a display of victory as she crossed the cement floor, heels tapping with every step she took, until she was beside the half folded figure of Mindy in the chair with her hands and feet duct taped perfectly in place. Justin was beside himself as he watched the woman that had been torturing him off and on for hours take a loving hand to his wife, brushing the hair away from her face until her pristine skin was fully visible. She wrapped her fingers around the length of Mindy’s locks and held her head up straight, giving her a convincing enough tug that she made the tiniest of whimpers in the process. The sound traveled and sent a shiver down the length of Justin’s spine as he watched his incapacitated wife in the cross-hairs of a woman that had made it plain to him that she had nothing but death in store for him. Mindy’s eyes fought to open, the haze across her field of vision as the medication flowed through her and made it even more difficult to focus. She blinked hard, bit down on her lip until she felt the pain sear through her jaw, and her tears were real as she found him across the room, knowing that he was really there.

                “You made her fucking cry, you fucking bastard,” her voice was booming as she let go of Mindy’s hair and stomped across the room, delivering one hell of a backhand to Justin that sent him back first against the fixtures that he was chained to. “Apologize immediately!”

                Mindy’s voice was muddled and slurred as the effects of the Amobarbital sodium was still heavy in her system, the sluggishness in full effect as she struggled to hold her own head up, the thunderous headache pounding through the back of her head. “Please, stop…just let us go. Whatever you want, just tell us, we’ll find a way to get it but you have to stop hurting him, please.”

                The long, black hair was parted down the middle and swung perfectly as she stood straight to look at Mindy, her bright green eyes piercing at the defeated woman restrained in the chair as she started walking back toward her. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew everything that he did and everything that he’s been doing to you—since before you got married. You married a lie. You live nothing more than an elaborate lie because of him. He needs to pay for it.”

                “I don’t know what you’re talking about but I don’t need to,” Mindy’s voice was teetering on the edge of resignation, almost as though she knew what their abuser was trying to get at as she looked up at her, eyes glassed over with tears. “None of it matters if you keep hurting him—please, stop hurting him, I’m begging you.”

                “He has to pay and suffer for what he has done and he’s no better than the rest of them,” The tenor in the woman’s voice was almost shaking as she brandished a blade and angled it in front of Mindy’s face until the light caught it, making her close her eyes in an instant. “You’re going to want to keep your eyes open for this one, honey.”

                “Mindy, don’t look, please, just don’t look,” Justin knew what was coming as his attacker took precise steps toward him and angled his head back while she sank the blade into his bicep, coaxing a low, painful growl from him in the process. “Keep your eyes closed, Mindy, you don’t have to watch this fucking bitch play her games.”

                The blade was small but had a sharp, almost serrated edge with a curved tip like a filleting knife and it required next to no effort as it slid into his flesh, ripping his tissue apart like butter. The muscle twitched and made his heart pump even more blood to the wound as she pushed the knife until the bolster stopped the forward motion. Justin made eye contact with his assailant and watched her eyes dilate, the pure adrenaline rushing through her simply from hearing his pain manifest through his teeth. He held his breath as the yearning to move took over, the pain thudding through his fresh wound as she thoughtlessly yanked the steel from his muscle, splattering his blood all over herself and the floor in the process.

               The motion left him breathless for only a moment as she thrust the blade into the space above his collarbone, making it harder for him to not cry out, to not give any cause for his wife to open her eyes and see exactly what was happening to him. He didn’t want to give in despite how badly it hurt as the second stab was far worse than the first and she was considerably less gentle as she pulled it free, skidding past his bone, flinging blood in every direction in the process. She was less than pleased at how quiet he had become and even more frustrated that her picture perfect plan of making him spill his figurative guts to his little wife seemed to be falling by the wayside as she held the dripping knife in her hand, breathing hard through her teeth. She studied him and waited for that small flinch of the muscle to slice his skin along his arm all over again, opening up the wounds that had barely started to clot, cutting just deep enough to cause even more spatter than she had before.

                The sound of the blood hitting the floor made Mindy jump but her eyes stayed closed much to the chagrin of their mutual torturer, who hadn’t had this much difficulty making her victims obey up until this point. She hadn’t given the actual bond between them a second thought as she realized that the cheating didn’t stop Mindy from loving Justin in spite of every moment that she had spent trying not to. It was their fatal flaw, in spite of the revelation, as she smirked and carefully wiped Justin’s blood from the blade along the hip of her pants, the smooth latex almost squeaking with every move she made. She was approaching torturing them in the wrong way and hurting him was no longer the way to get him to talk as she took that short jaunt across the cold, wet cement to Mindy as she held her eyes shut.

                “I’ve been going about this all wrong, haven’t I, Justin?” Her silky voice was grating on his ears as she took the tip of the blade to the edge of Mindy’s chin, finally coaxing those eyes open as she tried to evade the steel in her face. “How quickly would you tell the truth if I decided to cut open Mindy’s perfect, well taken care of skin? Would your tongue suddenly become a little looser? I’m betting it would.”

                Justin was shaking as the blood was half oozing from his newest wounds, the paleness from blood loss becoming considerable as he shook his head violently, the rage in his voice. “Jesus Christ, do whatever you fucking want to me but don’t harm a hair on her head. She doesn’t deserve to go through this.”

                “Now you play faithful white knight to your doe eyed wife?” Her red lips were trembling as she half throttled Mindy by the chin, aiming the blade toward Justin as she narrowed her eyes at him, her volume gaining pitch as she seemed to be losing control of her emotions. “Why don’t you just drop the doting husband act already and show everyone your true colors? Show Mindy here the kind of animal that I took home from the bar because I’m sure she’d much rather see that over this farce you are putting forth right now.”

                “I don’t think you understand plain fucking English, bitch, I don’t need to know what he’s done,” Mindy found her voice amongst the weeds as she dug deep, relinquishing the demure, weak part of her as the side that stayed buried came raging to the forefront. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, I already knew about everything. I drove him to do it. I’m the reason he keeps fucking other women…and I told him to do what he wants.”

                Mindy jerked her head away from the woman’s hand as she spoke; the voice was irritatingly soothing yet grating as she stood behind the chair, her eyes in Justin’s direction. “Oooh, things are suddenly getting very interesting.”

                “Mindy, don’t, you don’t have to do this,” Justin shook his head, the emotion written on his face as he could hear her pouring her heart out to a stranger that he had slept with and been tortured by for hours. “I deserve every second of this—you don’t.”

                “I owe you that much…after everything I’ve done to you,” Mindy was finally overcome with her own display of passionate upheaval as the tears stung her eyes as she blinked hard, allowing them to fall. “You weren’t who I wanted and I never gave you the chance to be the man that you actually are. I took away every moment of happiness and I’m sorry, I really am sorry.”

                “Are those real tears or are you as good of an actor as he is?” She cooed in Mindy’s face and craned her head back, awkwardly yanking on her hair in the process, feigning shock. “They are, aren’t they?”

                It was as though reality had all but escaped as Mindy stared up at the hauntingly green eyes that wanted nothing more than to create hell before death came to lay claim to her. She knew it as she swallowed the last of her pride and felt the ice around her heart finally break away as she desired nothing more than to hold the man that had been tortured over her, bled for her. Her eyes diverted and found him, where the remnants of solace rested as she could see his lips mouthing “I love you” at her. She felt it and mouthed “I know” as an affirmation like some cheesy nerd, cajoling a stifled, and tear filled chuckle from him in the process. It would’ve been easier to simply give up but neither one of them were very good at doing things without complications.

                It just wasn’t who they were or had become.

                “You’re never going to accomplish what you think you’re going to accomplish here tonight,” Justin’s voice was teetering on the edge of calm as met stares with those fire filled emeralds across the room. “Just let Mindy go and tell me what you want…it doesn’t have to end like this.”

                “You still think you’re getting out of here, don’t you?” Her eyes narrowed as she sank her fingernails into the tender skin of Mindy’s neck until she could hear a satisfying little cry from her. “I don’t want money or apologies or some sad little display of lovey dovey bullshit.”

                “Then what do you want?” Mindy was struggling with an overpowering desire to evacuate what was left of the contents of her stomach as she inhaled a wave of nausea. “You’re starting to sound like one of those pathetic women that hasn’t actually had a successful relationship of her own so you do everything you can to ruin the happiness of others—it just deviated somewhere along the way to whatever this shit is.”

                Her beauty, while damn near heady, hid something underneath that had begun to unravel as the red of her lips curved into a passive-aggressive smile, her eyes narrowing as she examined the face of Mindy’s less forgiving features. She was explosive and the switch had been flipped long ago, sending the last bit of her control barreling toward the cliff’s edge with a bomb on board. Mindy held her breath while the calculated creature pushed her nails into her skin until it was right at the edge of breaking skin, the white of blood flow desperate to break free against her clavicle as the woman’s thumbnail was nearly there, making a poorly thought out mark on her victim. Mindy’s eyes dared her, her pupils dilated and nostrils flared as she opened her lashes a little further, refusing to break visual contact with the woman.

                Her voice went sour and harsh as she felt the hollow pop of flesh parting followed by the glassy haze that washed over Mindy’s expression as she lowered her head. “You’re no better than he is…maybe even worse and I should’ve have even felt a second of pity for you over every bit of what you don’t seem to mind that he has done to you. You’re the reason for Aesop’s fables, Mrs. Henderson.”

                “What makes you think I want your pity?” Mindy wasn’t giving her any of the satisfaction of tears or a wince as the blood made a nearly perfect narrowed, pointed line along the curve of her breast toward the center of her sternum, saturating the material of her nightgown in an instant. “You get off on it and that is the last thing I plan on helping you with considering it’s blatantly obvious you’ve had plenty of assistance in that area from my less than capable of saying ‘no’ husband over there.”

                “Jesus, Mindy, stop,” Justin was less than interested in watching blood dribbling down the front of his wife but she was egging it on in the worst of ways. “Don’t make it worse!”

                “Oh, no, I’m just getting started, honey,” Mindy put emphasis on the word ‘honey’ as she kept staring at the woman hovering over her, half coming unhinged as her voice crested. “You may have a power over weak men who have had control issues in their relationships but you’re not putting one over on me so whatever you plan on doing to me just get it over with. I’m not going to pretend like I don’t know exactly what you have planned right now and letting me go isn’t one of any possible scenario from your elaborate little plan after you ambushed me in my living room. I’m almost certain that if you’ve done this to other women you’ve never done it to a woman like me, have you?”

                “They weren’t aware of the bad behavior of their partners like you are—and oh, so ok with the choices that had been made,” the frustration was evident from their captor as her fingers slid rhythmically from creating a wound in Mindy’s collarbone to choking her with a single hand. “You’re certainly unique in that respect.”

                “I don’t pretend to be perfect and maybe you’ve just dealt with a lot more mendacious little princesses that wear their smiles like a mask,” Mindy slowly blinked, struggling to breathe, her fingers stretching out as she gasped for air. “I stopped wearing that façade a long time ago, darling, maybe you should have done the same—you wouldn’t have ended up with your fingers wrapped around my neck like you are now.”

                The word darling struck her deep in her core, almost to a point that she desired nothing more than to snap Mindy’s neck right there but she simply grinned and lowered her voice as she reached toward the table behind the chair. “Don’t play a game with me that you simply cannot win, Mrs. Henderson…you showed me all of your cards already and I’ve got the hand that you won’t be able to beat.”

                “Fuck, stop it, Mindy, don’t push her!” Justin was helplessly yanking at the chains attached to his wrists, unknowingly battering his own flesh to the point of a steady hemorrhage that splattered with every move he made. “I can’t, I can’t lose you.”

                “I don’t think she’s listening to rationality anymore, Mister Henderson and you’d better stop with the struggling before you sever your ulnar arteries and ruin all of the fun I’m having,” The volume of her voice climbed as she swung her head around to glare in Justin’s direction, displeased with the mess he was making of himself.

                Mindy shook her head as the inevitable moment came that her opponent made the fatal move, check mating her into a finish that left Mindy inhaling a fairly potent gasp of air as her head tilted to one side, the smirk forming upon her lips, her eyes locked onto the green eyes above her. “Do you really think I wanted to beat you? I just gave your precious house of cards a strong, potent enough blow of air to knock every single piece down, darling, and gave someone else everything they needed to beat you.”

                The words didn’t make sense as Mindy’s abductor pressed her lips together, contemplating each little syllable while she redistributed the glossy coat of red across her pucker, the lapse of control evident as she felt the shudder against her hip from her victim. Her expression went blank as she stared down at Mindy and withdrew a carefully spent syringe from the sweet spot of her jugular, the fifty milliliters spent from the barrel, the seal pushed all of the way to the spot marked zero point zero, the needle now bloodied at the tip. It wouldn’t be long but the desired effect had been far from reached as Mindy’s mildly amused eyes didn’t move from staring up at her. Every kill had been an exhilarating experience and she looked down at the opposition of fear, the furthest from the others, and felt robbed of that sweet surrender that was owed to her. A labored laugh from Mindy followed as the needle dropped out of her assailant’s cool, calculated fingers and made a resounding series of tings on the cement as it landed. She backed away from Mindy as the obviousness of her condition was setting in, starting with the softening of all color in her cheeks and that half far away glance that followed.

                The embolism was passing through the blood slower than expected.

                “You are a fucking bitch, aren’t you?” Her voice was ragged as she felt the stinging against the gap between her top and her bottoms where skin had become exposed and Mindy had keenly snagged her fingernails against her nearly alabaster flesh, bloodying her in three separate lines.

                “Honey, breathe, breathe, please,” Justin felt his knees go weak as he watched Mindy’s head bob again, her eyes finally settling in his general direction. “That’s it, look at me.”

                Mindy swallowed hard, the circulation to her heart, brain, and lungs becoming that much more difficult with every breath she took as she leaned against her own shoulder. “I don’t know if I can even ask you for forgiveness but I have to, Justin…and it’s really shitty to realize in this very moment that I could’ve tried a lot more to be better at being a good person but I must’ve been the worst wife in existence. I’m so fucking sorry.”

                “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Justin felt the tears sting along his water line as he watched the icy layer melting around his wife’s heart. “You have always been my reason to fight and I’d die for you, in a heartbeat.”

                “The sappy bullshit between you two is truly nauseating,” She clicked her fingernails along the edge of the table behind the chair that held Mindy’s ailing body. “Shouldn’t you two be more concerned with the length of time that little Mindy has before that burst of air gets to her brain?”

                “Oh, do shut up, darling…give the insufferable cow act a rest for a few moments. Do you think you can manage that, darling?” Mindy was annoyed at the interruption of the ill-timed yet necessary moment between them as she rolled her eyes at the woman in black. “So, can I call you that? Or do you have a name?”

                “The name matters not but if you must have one you may have Freya…Ker…Proserpina…Hela,” She listed the names, voice growing louder as she towered over Mindy, angling her head back until the discomfort was evident. “They all mean the same thing…Death.”

                “You’re just a bitch that likes to hear the sound of her own voice, you know that?” Justin brought them out of the tense moment as Mindy’s eyes nearly rolled into her head after her assailant let go of her and stepped back.

               “Justin, I don’t know how much time I’ll have to say this to you so I need you to listen to me,” Mindy blinked hard as she felt the pressure building behind her eyes and along the base of neck. “If I had to go back and do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing about marrying you other than telling you to go…I’d hold onto every last shred of your love until there was nothing else left in this world but us.”

               “I will always find my way back to you. The next life won’t change the course of my heart or every life after that…and it never will,” Justin was bordering on sobbing as Mindy’s demeanor changed, her veins pulsing and lips began to turn blue as she forced a weak, well-intentioned smile. “That’s my girl.”

               Mindy’s mouth opened to speak just as the pocket of oxygen sent an electrical current to her brain, setting off a chain reaction grand mal seizure that rattled the restraints loose, causing wrist and ankle wounds with every desperate thrash. She unraveled in a matter of moments, her remaining adrenaline rushing through her in parallel with the sedative still running rampant through her—the breath fading in and out, threading as her lungs cried out. Justin didn’t want to hear his wife losing the battle, every moment slipping away into oblivion, his own wailing carrying heavily over the top of every little noise that came from her as she struggled with every last ounce of energy that remained. No amount of blame or guilt was going to solve it and he was powerless across the room as the musculature in Mindy’s face began to contort with every agonizing series of chokes that came from her throat.

               “Please stop this!” Justin was shouting toward his now silent captor, who was almost enjoying the sight as Mindy’s condition worsened.

               She barely looked at Mindy as she crossed the room and yanked his head back by a fist full of hair, coaxing an angry growl from him. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t…she deserves every last bit of this and so do you.”

               This wasn’t how ‘til death do us part’ was intended and all he could do was witness every second of it as his heart broke into a thousand pieces with the last, strained breaths that left Mindy’s lips. He remembered his vows and felt his chest caving in as he looked at the beautiful, still vessel that once housed the soul of the woman that he once described as destiny’s manifestation. There was nothing left to care about and the black clad woman with the striking red lips and green eyes held her fist closed and stood in front of him, blocking his line of sight toward Mindy. He looked up at her and shook his head in disbelief over the expression of pride that rested in her eyes as her lips curved into a rather devious smile.

               “What in the fuck do you want from me that you haven’t already taken away?” Justin didn’t have anything left to care for and his patience had all but crumbled at his feet.

               She was like a siren luring another ship of men to their deaths with her death song full of a stir of echoes to possess and command, then destroy. “I just want to look at you one more time…see your broken, defeated face and know that I set everything in motion to end you. Do you have anything else you’d like to say to me?”

               “Yeah, I do,” Justin had her hanging on every word as his head tilted to the side, his own last ditch indignation shining, his blood hot. “Make it fucking count, you rotten, bitter, lonely bitch.”

               Her suicide red lips were pursed together, the ire for him brewing as she lowered her chin and narrowed her eyes as she delivered a knee to his overly tensed abdominal muscles. He barely made a sound but it was enough as she showed her displeasure again, racketing him across the chest with the stiffened top of her hand. She slipped her hand across his windpipe and pushed her weight forward, just enough to hear the gag against her hand, against his lips, as he failed multiple times to take a full breath into his lungs. There was a hunger in it, a raw, animalistic quality to her attack as she stood straight, removed her hand from his neck, and gashed him with her index nails across his Adam’s apple as his head tossed back to suck in the air.

               The sound carried nothing syllabic as he groaned and cried out simultaneously while his eyes glassed over and blood oozed from his new wound, not nearly enough to become problematic.

               “This is going to hurt—so much,” The precise, nearly scalpel sharp blade that had been carefully sheathed against her inner thigh was now between her fingers just within his line of sight as she adjusted her grip on it. “Try not to scream or the neighbors might hear you and I really hate having to lie to my neighbors.”

               He was struggling before she could fully finish her sentence but it was too little, too late as she held his right thigh in place until she knew the control her left hand had on him was completely set, sinking the blade into his flesh. He had already bled countless times at her hands but this was different, this was far worse as the intent reached far deeper, into the conduit that carried, contained every bit of his life force.  She only glanced down once, admiring her expertise in aim as she felt his femoral pulse reverberate through the blade just enough that her index finger rhythmically matched his panic, his increased heart-rate. It didn’t take much of an upward motion to dash his chances as a one inch incision was all it would take to seal his doom, the half pressurized gush and spatter that followed rivaled slicing someone from ear to ear, along their windpipe—full exposure in the smallest of margins.

               Justin went weak from the waist down, sliding forward until he was half hanging against the mess of chains around his limbs, his downturned face finally seeing exactly what she had done.

               “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Her voice cut through the haze, echoing in his ears as he blindly stared at the river of blood flowing from the highest spot on his inner thigh, thick, dark, endless.

               Justin’s voice was weak as he shook his head carefully, taking away more of her satisfaction. “I don’t feel anything at all.”

 

 

 

_The most powerful weapon_

_On earth is the human soul on fire._

-Ferdinand Foch

 

6:10 AM

Mulder’s Apartment

 

                The quiet was unusual in Mulder’s apartment but it was just that, quiet, and dark in the expanse of Mulder’s modest Alexandria home with only the gentlest of hums of appliances to really know that the place had electricity. It was atypical to how Mulder often passed out with the TV still on and the dull murmur of paid programming until the morning news took over at sunrise…and it hadn’t been like that since Scully started sleeping in his bed. Mulder had slid out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, pushed the door shut and flicked the light on to not wake the very exhausted woman still in his bed that didn’t need to be awake just yet. He was quiet as he quickly relieved himself and pushed the handle down to flush, not even realizing that the sound was considerably louder than he had wanted or expected as he turned toward the sink. It was just loud enough as Scully awoke to the sound of the toilet flushing followed by the faucet turning on to a dull drip; the light in the room had just barely begun to filter through the tiniest of gaps in the blackout curtains. Scully could hear the masculine groaning from the bathroom followed by a pop of Mulder’s back as he stretched and turned the light off, carefully opening the door to keep it as quiet as he could muster.

               Her back was to him, exposed just a little bit from being half tangled in the sheets on the bed he hadn’t really gotten used to having yet, even with her there. Some nights they didn’t quite make it to the bed and that was okay with him as long as he woke up to the sound of her breathing next to him. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim as he took a long look at her lying comfortably in the bed, her arm curved underneath of her pillow to the point he could see her fingers curved up against the fluff of the pillow he had been sleeping on. She was beautiful, as always, and looked so peaceful in his bed, tangled in the sheets that she had bought. He smirked at the thought, the notion of how domestic it had become, as he started to tiptoe toward the open door toward the living room, the chilly air sending a shiver up his thighs toward his naked ass as he maneuvered completely into the doorway.

               “Where do you think you’re going, Mulder?” Scully’s sleepier, sultry voice stopped him in his tracks as she propped herself up on an elbow, smirking as she scoped out his butt from the bed, inhaling her bottom lip just enough to chew on it.

               Mulder turned his head and gave her a look, chuckling over the expression on her face while clearing his throat. “I was just letting you get a little more sleep, Scully, but it looks like you have other plans.”

               “As much as I enjoy staring at your ass while you stand in the doorway, I think I’d rather you get back in this bed since we seem to have some unfinished business to attend to,” Scully angled herself a little, exposing the entire length of her leg as she sat up and leaned against the pillows, raising both eyebrows at him.

               “Quite satisfied with yourself over forcing me to maintain the bedroom furnishings aren’t you?” Mulder winked at her as he made his way back to the bed and slid his fingers along the highest point of her hip while sliding under the sheets with her. “Complete with little headboard marks against the wall that I’ll, one day, be expected to touch up with some paint.”

               Scully didn’t waste much time in pulling him into a quick, wet, and hunger driven kiss that had her sliding her arms across his shoulders and wrapping her legs around him, the heavy pop of their lips separating preceding a light moan. “You know that you can’t entirely blame all of those on me, Mulder…you’re responsible for at least sixty percent of them.”

               “Not fifty-fifty? Harsh, Scully, so harsh…” Mulder nibbled on the corner of her mouth, his barely there stubble tickling enough to send a distinct shiver down her spine and notch up her blood pressure. “Are you absolutely sure that you’re not tired…?”

               Scully had gotten used to the feel of his skin, the taste of his lips and the smell of his aftershave or body wash in close proximity. It was becoming natural and she could count, on only one hand, the number of nights that they had spent apart since Mulder had found her in that basement, hanging by a thread. The nights that were alone were with Scully’s Mother just down the hall or Mulder had to be called to be there—simply to stop the screaming, to dampen the nightmares, to soften the blow of feeling like she was right back where she was six months earlier. Healing Scully’s wounds became paramount, part of the air that they both breathed, but Mulder was hesitant at first to admit that the psychological implications of nearly losing her had him closer to the edge than he had ever wanted to be for a second time in their history and this was significantly harder for both of them to bounce back from. Fighting the necessity for comfort was obsolete and unneeded as neither of them looked at the half domestic bliss as routine, but rather as the shot that they had nearly lost so many times before.

               Neither of them were allowing it to slip away as distance between them disappeared and skin became electric in a breath, with no more than a touch as Mulder found that piece of Scully that had started to radiate in the dark—shining it up all over again as he reminded her as though it were yesterday.

               “How do you keep doing this?” Scully panted, digging at his back, her lips against the space below his earlobe, her back pressed against the headboard. “Every…single…time…”

               “Doing what?” Mulder knew as he tapped the curvature of his tongue against the slope of her neck where it met her jaw, dragging his teeth along her skin until he could hear the crack of a moan emerge from her lips.

               Scully smirked and angled her head back, groaning as Mulder’s emergent erection teased the already budding heat between her legs. “Make it seem like the first time each and every time you push up against me…That takes talent and I’m sure you realize exactly how much I notice it.”

               Mulder laid little kisses along the curve of her jaw while teasing the wet, electric torridity that was radiating off of her like a furnace notched on high, her hips coming up to meet him with every little move he made. “It always will feel like that with you, Scully…each time, and every time, I’ll find a new way to show you.”

               “You’re doing a damn good job of it, just don’t stop,” Scully’s voice had gone hoarse as she pulled him closer, scooting down and away from the headboard until she had to hold herself up against the pillows while his hand kept a firm grip on her thigh, bumping against her hard. “Fuck! Right there!”

               “Hold on…not yet,” Mulder tried not to lose it right in that second as her voice alone had him throbbing against her wetness, the yearning there as he hadn’t even made inside of her. “I don’t want to go off like a hair trigger.”

               She knew that he meant every word as she felt it crash through her like a wave, gathering like a storm surge that had only just begun to build. Mulder captured her bottom lip between his teeth as his left hand held her thigh just a little higher on his hip until his strum-like thrust, slow and delicate, fully joined them together again. This was one act that they would never get used to or tire of as flesh met flesh and sweat became a layer across both bodies, source indistinguishable. Scully called out his name and craved his mouth again as she pulled him to her with a hunger, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist with one of his hands tugging her knee higher, wanting to get closer. They had been clever at a quickie and even more astute at the agile, passionate lovemaking but something had evolved between them, as sex became survival, necessity, a way to block out what they both knew was staring them in the face the moment the clothes went back on.

               Brutality, degradation, loss, pain…and fear the far-fetched notion, in the most minute of possible outcomes of the trial, that Scully’s attempted rapist was trying to get out of jail on a technicality.

               It had been taking over their dreams, spiraling both into a series of nightmares that left them staring at the ceiling until sleep finally ravaged them like esurient wolves when rest was no longer really possible. They had been grateful for the rare nights like that resulted in mornings such as these, when every ounce of energy went into forgetting that the world existed around them and simply savoring each other from the lips down. Mulder had been a practicing instigator for weeks but Scully had been perfecting her more subtle form of reducing him to mush with nothing more than a look, ending up entwined in the most scintillating of poses nearly each and every time. They were there again, in the throes of ardor, vigor rising and intensity reaching for a fever pitch with each passing second.

               “I’m so…close,” Scully’s body was shaking and her thighs were half on fire as she did her best not to tighten them like a vice around him as she gazed up at his now wincing face.

               Mulder nodded, breathing heavily as every thrust sent the headboard against the wall, the thudding increasing in volume as well as speed. “I’m right there, even closer.”

                Scully maintained that eye contact with him and reached above her head, pushing against the headboard as she felt the crown of her head slide a little too close. The motion was unintentionally assisting in the extra friction as the thrusts that followed nearly made them both lose consciousness momentarily as every electrical impulse within them fired at once and sent a jolt through them. The sensation flooded through them with enough ferocity and acuteness that the entire bed shook beneath them and the mattress screeched in an atypical fashion, shuddering as they came and moaned each other’s names into the smallest of gaps that remained between them. For a moment, the heavy breathing was joined with laughter as the mattress whined again as Mulder half collapsed onto Scully, her fingers gliding along his shoulder blades as both continued to feel that delicious quiver of each other’s climax winding down.

               “I think the mattress is finally angry at us, Scully,” Mulder laughed, shuddering just a little as her touch invited a trail of goosebumps down the expanse of his back. “Ohh, Jesus Christ, don’t start…you’ll get me going faster than a wind-up toy.”

               Scully smirked, giggling against his neck as she heard a new squeak coming from below her backside as the frame moved just a little bit as he slid carefully to the side, lying next to her. “I think we might’ve busted a couple of springs…didn’t you just buy this a couple of months ago?”

               “Uh huh…Durable and heavy duty, my ass,” Mulder barely noticed the added noise but it was evident as they jostled in the bed, his eyebrow elevated as he looked at her.

               “Well, you didn’t exactly convey to the salesman that you planned on doing what we’ve been doing in the middle of the night since you bought it—I’m sure he would’ve tried to upsell you,” Scully had her knees bent, covering in only the sheet as she coughed a little, still mildly winded. “I’m assuming you didn’t, anyway.”

               “I didn’t verbalize such plans but it didn’t mean I didn’t get on each mattress and give it a wiggle,” Mulder reached for his glass of water on the side table, smiling at her as he wrapped his fingers around the plastic.

               “I should’ve figured,” Scully closed her eyes and breathed heavily as she stretched her back against the warmth of the pillows.

               They were on that downward slope from their blissful high between the sheets when the phone on the nightstand started to ring. Mulder had a cup of water up to his lips, swallowing half of the contents in under a second as he glanced at the blinking green light while it rang. Scully leaned against the stack of pillows and wiped her hair out of her face along with the beads of sweat that had formed, breathing deeply while she struggled to catch her breath. Mulder set the cup back down and snatched the phone, giving Scully a “aren’t you glad we are getting good at quickies” faces before pushing the talk button, clearing his throat as he put it up to his ear.

               “Mulder…” His voice was straining as he rubbed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his brow, inciting the quiet snort from Scully.

               “Hey, it’s Max…Did I wake you two?” Max’s voice was undeniably tired on the other end but he sounded considerably less exhausted than Mulder in this current state.

               Mulder sat up a little sharply, catching that pang of worry in Max’s voice as he reached for the table lamp, flicking it on. “No, we’re both awake—what’s wrong? Did something happen to you or Drea?”

               “No, we’re okay, just have been awake for the last hour whether we wanted to be or not,” Max sighed into the receiver, the sound of his coffee cup tapping the top of a table in the background before he continued. “Metro called me after they couldn’t get a hold of Ava and informed me that two more bodies have been found with the same external signature wounds as our previous victims—another dumpsite this time.”

                “They found another couple?” Scully was leaning on Mulder’s shoulder listening to the phone call, a look of concern passing over as she looked up at him.

               “The department couldn’t reach Agent King? Is that a they didn’t try all that hard or our current Special Agent in Charge is, in fact, ducking her calls?” Mulder was no longer judging Ava on her simply being the destroyer of Max’s innocence as he glanced at the clock. “I mean, she seems a little flighty, at best.”

               Max wasn’t nearly as awake as he had first let on as the yawn blended into the first couple of words of his sentence. “Knowing what I know about her…it’s likely a combination of both and she probably has no interest unless it is on her schedule. She has always had that M.O. of being more than a little self-focused and self-centered when it came to when she chose to be on time or grace us with her presence. I don’t want to see this case become a giant mess because she can’t seem to organize herself for long enough to run a proper op.”

               “Your ex’s neurotic tendencies aside, did Metro actually give you any details about the scene of the crime when they called or did they just drop the bomb on you and hang up?” Scully knew he could hear her as she wrapped her arm across Mulder’s abs, leaning close enough that her mouth was a little closer to the phone.

               “Oh, yeah…they were a bit vague because they hadn’t actually conducted a full search but everything looked identical at first glance. Married couple, same ‘his’ and ‘no longer hers’ scrawled into their flesh, extensive torture to the male victim with little wounds inflicted on the female—same cause of death for both. They were purposely a little vague, though, since it sounded like they wanted us to get down there and check it out for ourselves,” Max was teetering between a yawn and choking on his coffee as he tried not to be too clinical in recalling the information from the phone call. “I advised them to leave the scene in tact and get the extraction team out there immediately.”

               “They should’ve already been on the way,” Mulder watched as Scully reached onto the side table on her side, grasping a notepad, jotting down a few details.

               “That’s what they told me but they need someone to get over there immediately and run point,” Max paused, Drea’s voice distant in the background taking him off kilter. “You’re worse than Mulder, quit it.”

               “Hey, hey, hey…you leave my sarcastic girl alone or I’ll whoop your ass,” Mulder raised his voice and caught Scully rolling her eyes at him.

               Max made a hissing sound with his teeth above the sound of Drea’s laughter in the background. “She’s over here adding her own fucking commentary to this while I’m just trying to stay awake and she won’t stop staring at me like I’m a rare steak.”

               “You are such a liar…I’m looking at you like you’re rump roast,” Drea was finally loud enough that she was easier to hear, instigating a round of laughter from Scully in spite of herself.

                “While Drea objectifies you some more, why don’t you call Skinner, tell him to meet you at the Fifth District Department building, and I’ll rudely interrupt whatever Agent King is doing on this lovely morning so we can get a move on?” Mulder slid out of the bed and went for his wallet on the dresser. “I’m certain you’d rather that Skinner hear whatever is going over there, anyway.”

                “Saving me from stimulating the green-eyed monster that will no doubt develop the instant she even hears Drea being as insistently silly as she has been this morning,” Max’s voice dipped a little bit, another yawn taking over. “I don’t think I can handle it today.”

                “My filter is off and I’m liable to give ample opportunity to get everyone in trouble,” Drea chimed in, coaxing a grin out of Mulder in the process while Max let out a laugh.

                “That’s the last thing all of us need is the stubborn meeting head on with self-involved,” Max was still in mid-chuckle, his voice taking another dip as it muffled behind a coffee cup again.

                “We’ll meet you at the precinct in about forty minutes, then,” Mulder exchanged a quick goodbye with Max, hanging up the phone while he pulled Ava’s card from his wallet. “Scully, I can see you staring at my ass again, you have to behave for just a little while…”

                “Oh, come on, you call Max a party pooper,” Scully couldn’t resist the opportunity to scope him out as he stood there with the receiver in his hand and the card in the other as he turned to look at her. “I like what I see…there’s nothing wrong with that.”

                “I need you to try behaving for a while,” Mulder climbed back into the bed while dialing the number on the card, waiting for the phone to ring on the other end as he leaned against the headboard, allowing Scully to steal a kiss while the pulse tone jingled in is ear.

                The sound of muffled thuds and scratches against the mouthpiece followed by a masculine groan and grunt as the voice caught Mulder slightly off guard. “Ava King’s phone…can I help you?”

                “You did not just answer my phone…give it to me, immediately,” Ava’s voice was further away but less than pleased as the male’s vocalization became more of a grouse as she dominated the phone, sending a loud thud into the phone and into Mulder’s ear at the same time. “This is Ava…”

                “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything, Agent King…it’s Agent Mulder,” Mulder put his hand over the phone and had his eyes wide as he looked at Scully, lowering his voice immediately. “I think I just caught her having a really good time…and the guy answered the phone instead of her.”

                “Oh Jesus…the intrigues with Agent King get more interesting by the second,” Scully wanted to be a fly on the wall or be able to stealthily press the speaker button but she knew that the bed would likely start to creak again if she moved.

                Mulder still had the phone muffled with his hand, his voice barely above a whisper. “She obviously didn’t like it…I can hear her reading the guy the riot act while she thinks I can’t hear it.”

                The man’s voice was distant but pronounced as Mulder held back a laugh. “Oh, come on, kitten, you can’t just boot me out like that…we were having a good time.”

                “…I have a name and it isn’t kitten. It’s been fun, now get the hell out,” Ava’s finger slipped off of the receiver, the irritation evident as the first, real show of emotion was conveyed through her voice to Mulder.

               “Holy hell—no way,” Scully moved her hand over her own mouth, holding back a laugh as Mulder had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

               “No, he was just leaving,” The sound of a slamming door accompanied Ava’s voice as she continued, clearing her throat with a gentle cough. “What’s going on? It’s a little early for a courtesy call.”

                “Metro has been trying to get a hold of you for about an hour so they called Max instead,” Mulder knew he didn’t need to emphasize mentioning Max but he did, ribbing Ava enough get a healthy swat from Scully on the curve of his forearm. “They found another couple this morning—same cause of death at a new dumpsite. They haven’t told us exactly where.”

                “That was quick. Our guy must be getting either sloppier or very efficient at the torture game,” Ava had one of those voices that could come off as borderline monotone but her inflections were just subtle, barely there. “How soon can you meet me at the station house?”

                “Just need enough time to get dressed and drive there,” Mulder reached for his boxers while Scully was already snapping on a bra. “Skinner and Max are already on the way, so they may beat us there.”

                “More feet on the ground and eyes on the prize is always a positive. I’ll see you there, then,” Ava didn’t wait for the affirmation from Mulder before hanging up the phone on her end, the unsavory click pulse in his ear.

                “I am pretty certain that she has no idea we just heard that entire exchange and now I know more than I ever wanted to know about Agent Ava King,” Mulder almost got lost in the hypnotic bounce of Scully’s breasts in her bra as she crossed the room to retrieve her pants. “The poor guy was probably thinking he’d at least get a little breakfast and another quickie…”

                Scully had her slacks pulled up beyond her hips and was zipping them as their eyes met, brows elevated while she pushed the button into place. “I just have to say this even if it sounds presumptive and judgmental. I am completely at a loss over how Max found that woman the slightest bit attractive in any shape, way, or form beyond the physical.”

                “Every man is drawn to a type of woman at some point that isn’t necessarily good for them but I’m trying not to psychoanalyze the full details of that complete headcase that nearly ruined Maximus without putting the finer points into their already obviously unholy union,” Mulder wiggled into a pair of slacks, yanking them on until he could fasten them closed, zipping them up.

                “Well, that was a mouthful,” Scully buttoned her heather gray linen and cotton shirt and shook her head while running a couple of fingers through her hair, straightening out the stray bits.

                “Your phrasing isn’t accidental, is it?” Mulder was growing accustomed to Scully’s double entendres at the most inopportune of times as he watched her slide a pair of black socks on while he finished buttoning his blue shirt. “We really can’t be preoccupied with whether or not she’s mildly or fully flagging every warning in the book for a mental problem or six—this case is already ramping up disturbingly fast.”

                “The timeline change has me concerned about how much of the circumstances have deviated from the previous victims to this set,” Scully had one arm in her coat as she tugged it on and pushed her identification into her breast pocket, concealing it well. “Are we already behind the eight ball for their next choice of victim?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come!  
> I am so sorry this took ages! It has been a rough month or so and the plot got a little stuck along the way. Chapter 5 is already on the way. 
> 
> Thank you to @Monikafilefan, for always being so willing to read passages for clarity and advice. You have kept me from giving up and I appreciate you so much.
> 
> Quotes By:  
> R. Queen  
> Ferdinand Foch
> 
> References Made:  
> You didn’t imagine the reverse Han and Leia “I love you”, “I know”…It is there…purposely.  
> Freya, Ker, Proserpina, Hela – all Goddesses or mythical entities related to the takers and givers of life and death.


	5. Aberration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max, Skinner, Mulder, and Scully assist their temporary SAC in discovering that their killer has begun to devolve and stray from their typical MO, all while a new victim is chosen and exposed.
> 
> We all wear masks, and the time comes   
> when we cannot remove them   
> without removing some of our own skin.   
> – Andre Berthiaume
> 
> **There be a little bit of smuttiness here**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **There is a slightly touchy subject discussed in the third part of this chapter—it is relevant, it is not done without extreme care and consideration for the subject matter**
> 
> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

 

 

_But if you let me_   
_I can make another world for us_   
_Let me suffer all for you_   
_Make this vision all brand new_   
_We can fight them_   
_I can say that I can win it all_   
_Come with me and I will make my worst untold_   
_Let me do this_

“Renaissance” – Paolo Buonvino & Deborah Ann Dyer

 

7:45 AM

Fifth District Police Department

 

                Mulder and Scully walked into the bullpen to find Skinner and Max already hugging paper cups of coffee, looking like they had just been run through the wringer before the day had truly begun. They turned, in unison, toward their oncoming company and held up matching, lidded cups in response like they had planned it all out to perfection. Scully nearly let out a laugh as she took her cup from Max while Mulder did the same with Skinner, the synchronized expressions looking more like a scene out of _The Shining_ with every passing second, sans the matching dresses on ten year old girl bodies, of course. It was uncanny and hilarious at the same time as Scully elbowed Mulder, earning a solitary grunt and a nod that he noticed it right along with her. The humor was right there, blooming in front of them in spite of the awkward, sensitive situation that the case had propelled them into. This was exactly how they didn’t want to start their day but it was already more than headed there as silence was a vacuum that only highlighted the odd behavior by the field rookie and supervisorial influences in front of them.

                “None of that couples communication bullshit or I’ll backhand Mulder on behalf of both of you,” Max was moody as he glared at them, noticing the mainly non-verbal skills at work while they sipped their coffee, eyebrows raised in his direction.

                “You know better than to try any funny stuff on Scully, she’ll getcha and I’ll let her,” Mulder smirked from behind the coffee cup, shoving his free hand into his pocket as he looked at Max from the curved lid of the cup. “So mean and we’ve barely even started the day…who pissed in your cornflakes this morning, Maximus?”

                Skinner leaned against the table behind him and rubbed the bridge of his nose, setting his coffee on the synthetic and wood blend, the tapping sound barely audible as he licked his lips and looked over at them. “Preliminary crime scene reports are pretty gruesome and the lead investigator couldn’t even be bothered to beat us here…does that about cover it or do we need to elucidate it further?”

                “Did you two have a vent session before we got here or something?” Scully was thoroughly amused at the prospect of Skinner and Max bonding over a mutual distaste for being made to wait. “That’s healthy.”

                “Who brought you the information about the crime scene?” Mulder was more concerned with the details of the victims than of Ava’s obvious lack of care for her own case as he looked around at the room as the individual officers began to filter in and out. “It’s pretty obvious where Agent King’s priorities lie and it isn’t on this case—so we have to keep doing our due diligence to accomplish something.”

                “That would be me,” Detective Alice Donahue was creeping up from the side, in plain clothes aside from her badge hooked to a visible hip holster, the mannerisms crawling into the more masculine, withdrawing nearly all of her femininity behind the rigid ponytail, muted colors, and lack of makeup, as she came in carrying her coffee cup like it had been permanently attached. “Detective Alice Donahue—I actually transferred into Lieutenant Perry’s division just a few months ago and had this entire case fall directly into my lap like it was my welcome package.”

                “Detective Donahue, you’ll have to excuse us, we’ve all been put through the wringer with the sheer number of new investigators that have been popping up and you’re another face in a sea of endless faces that we’re hoping has more answers than questions,” Mulder had a level of guilt hitting him in the gut as he realized that she walked up as they were having a bitch session.

                Alice let out a dull groan and set her cup down, crossing her arms as she made eye contact with Mulder with an eyebrow elevated just slightly. “To alleviate your worry, the first non-supervisory Officer to put their hands on this case was me and I handpicked the field officers for secondary response team that has been working on it since day one. I came from Baltimore’s Sex Offense Unit. I look for links like these to assist and drive cases to either be solved or escalate to a division with more tools to execute a proper response.”

                “I’m assuming you have something to tell us that couldn’t wait until we go to the crime scene directly?” Scully appreciated the energy that Alice presented as she was already at a small box of documents, slowly removing a few things along with a satchel full of spent film.

                “You are direct, I like that and need that from all of you. Our bodies up until this point have been popping up in this industrial park in these two sections that no one really goes in other than unruly teenagers and the homeless looking for a temporary reprieve from the bad weather,” Alice nodded and turned toward the large map along the wall that had the city divided into sections. She gathered a red-tipped pins and pushed them into a couple of random buildings, approximating the same area that Skye had been creeping through when she discovered one set of the bodies, her voice trailing as she moved to a completely different area on the map, pushing another pin into it before turning toward them. “Ever since we began patrolling the first area more thoroughly…our last set of bodies showed up in this area.”

                “Industrial dump site as well?” Max approached the map, looking at the color coding that had a similar shading to the original areas, scrutinizing it just a little.

                “It’s a heavily populated industrial loading zone—there’s a bunch of supply warehouses and transition stations in that area, it’s less than a mile from here,” Alice pressed a pin in the spot where the Metropolitan Police department was located in proximity to the dump site. “I don’t know about you, but it’s pretty fucking brazen to go dumping two bodies in that kind of area knowing just how close to the cops you were. This asshole doesn’t give a shit anymore.”

                “Brazen or wanted to make a definitive, bold statement,” Scully looked at the movement from one site to the next, the distance between the two was fairly considerable but the second site was near a quarry where it was easy to slip away, unseen, out of sight and out of mind. “Did anything else change or was that the big one?’

                “A little of column A…a little from column B,” Alice thumbed through a set of preliminary notes taken from the crime scene, reading them out loud. “Female victim shows immediate visible signs of trauma not limited to bruising to the neck, shoulders, wrists, ankles, petechial hemorrhage in both eyes, and…here’s the real kicker, deep gashes to the sternum not caused by a blade but by fingernails. Upon secondary visual exam, female victim appears to have particulates under the nails of her right hand. Apparent cause of death is air embolism via injection to the jugular.”

                “This victim was actually assaulted before she had the injection of air and she might’ve taken a chunk out of our unknown killer,” Mulder met glances with Scully, who had an equally shocked expression written on her face as he adjusted his stance.

                Alice took a sip of her coffee, the swagger more than apparent as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Does that little bit of information tickle everyone’s proverbial pickle?”

                “Easy there, Detective, you’re dangling the cheese in front of our faces but we’re definitely not mice waiting to take the bait so you can snare us all in a trap waiting for the rest of the information to slam down on top of us,” Scully took a swig of coffee and glanced at the documentation, her wheels turning as she looked at Alice with a certain directness. “Has the indication that the male victim had been sexually active prior to his death stayed the same?”

                “The male was pretty heavily sanitized but there’s not a shadow of a doubt that he participated in some very rough sex at some point in the past twenty-four to forty-eight hours—his body was indicative of significantly more trauma than the previous three males,” Alice was flexing her experience chops as the words flew out of her mouth with little worry. “There were traces of latex residue but nothing significant due to the heavy disinfectant that was used on his body.”

                “He is a toy that needed to be sanitized while she pushed a dangerous limit that sent the killer over the edge,” Skinner had been quiet but his words were profound, meaningful, accurate as Alice looked over at him with her hands on her hips.

                “Here I was thinking that you only kept the bald one around for someone fun to look at,” Alice was flirtatious and had the top of Skinner’s head bright pink in a half of a second as she winked at him and kept talking. “The idea, while horrifying, is a pretty accurate statement—he’s nothing more than a trashy dildo and the women are being forced to see the cheating, lying messes that they’ve been living with.”

                “Wild theory or educated assumption?” Max was fascinated by her as she pressed her lips together, a hint of a smile hiding as she flipped through a set of files from just inside of the box.

                “A pattern based theory if you look at the details of the way these bodies are arranged, posed, and dumped…the killer took great care of the female victims up till now,” Alice was sliding the photos of the crime scenes across the table like cards, displaying each one for them. “I still need to print the newest ones but they are a far cry from the ones in front of you. This most recent couple pissed our unknown off something _fierce_ and I’d like to know why…and something changed that I’m purposely keeping close to the vest until you see it.”

                “Titillating,” Mulder was fascinated by Alice’s word choice and had her head turning, eyebrow raising with his own singular word drop.

                “Your reputation precedes you, Agent Mulder,” Alice looked past him and caught the sideways glance from Scully in the process. “I bet some of your superior officers just love having to put up with each and every one of your antics…both of you.”

                Scully coughed, doing her best not to give in to the obvious attempt at baiting them into a conversation about the blurred line between the professional and personal between her and Mulder. “We manage…however we can.”

                “Safest answer in the book, well done,” Alice was far more interested in Scully’s witty remark than the words actually intended as she looked back toward Mulder, continuing to speak. “I’ve been involved in plenty of cases where the perp suddenly went off book but this is a little bit different, to say the least.”

                “The mother of the wife reported that the living room was in shambles when she arrived…front door still locked?” Scully’s eyes spotted the documentation from the scene, the photos of scattered pearls and spilled wine all over the floor.

                “I was secondary on scene with the LT and we found the discarded syringe cap, evidence of a struggle along the interior of the living room along with Mrs. Henderson’s fingerprints all over the door handle, slider all of the way open,” Alice dug for the photos and arranged them above the crime scene photos, scrutinizing them all over again. “I can’t help but think that Mrs. Henderson did all of the carnage above the fireplace on her own—the wine had dried a little too much for it to be related to the attack and the only broken glass was against the spot where wine saturated and along the floor where it ricocheted.”

                “Have you been running any of these very interesting points by Agent King? She is, after all, lead on this case and came to us to assist her in the endeavor of solving it,” Mulder was beyond the point of giving two shits about the attitude he was flinging in regard to the lack of guidance that Agent King had been providing on her own case as he thumbed over the photos next to Alice.

                “What interesting points should I be seeing exactly?” Ava’s voice arrived much like a hurricane from the back of the room as she came in carrying a cup of coffee between her fingers, haphazardly adjusting the pins in her hair as a few solitary strands dropped into her field of vision. “I know, I know, I know…I’m late…caught in traffic.”

                “Caught in something…that’s for certain,” Max rolled his eyes, his voice barely loud enough so that Skinner next to him could hear the sarcasm laced remark as he lifted his head and made eye contact with his ex.

                Skinner shot him a sideways death glare as he held back the obvious smirk, impressed with the completely off-the-cuff, half rancid bitterness that was bubbling straight to the surface. “You’re about to inherit a not so pleasant nickname each and every time you are the last to arrive for a discussion, Agent King.”

                “Yeah…well, I’m sure I have plenty of them when my back is turned or I have just left the room so I don’t expect anything less,” Ava was testy as she set her cup down and turned toward Max, giving him a singularly raised eyebrow as she adjusted her collar. “Moving on then?”

                “Traffic or not, you got a real, big, glaring hickey on your neck that you didn’t cover up…unless that traffic was so bad that you got into a fight with your steering wheel, with your windpipe,” Alice nearly had Scully and Mulder choking on their coffee in unison while Max grinned like a kid at Christmas discovering all of the presents first thing in the morning while Ava scrambled to hide the spot. “Just looking out for ya, babe.”

                “We are definitely not discussing me today, alright?” Ava’s voice was bordering on hoarse as she cleared her throat, diverted her eyes away from Max and smiled assuredly at Alice, who seemed a little pleased at how off kilter Ava had become. “There’s something you’d like to share with me?”

                Alice would’ve had Ava confessing each and every one of her sins in less than four seconds if she were a suspect ready for interrogation as she unscrewed the cheesy grin and leaned against the center of the support beam. “Your most recent female victim left a stereo blaring, threw a full glass of wine at a mirror above the mantle of the living room fireplace, and may have been in an already semi-incoherent state of mind when our aggressive friend decided to snatch her from the living room. I don’t think there’s any coincidence that these are the victims that are being chosen…there’s a pattern we’re missing and it’s putting lives at stake because we’re not seeing the below the surface.”

                “It’s been pretty evident that they’re being targeted over a cheating husband—but this would entail that the ideology is straying from the intended,” Ava held the documents in her hand, nonchalantly rebuffing the idea entirely.

                “I don’t know that it’s that simple,” Scully glanced over the documents and the photos, noticing the changes in the posturing, poses, torture methodology and kept her eyes planted on the struggle that it presented. “What if we’re looking at a killer that thinks they knew everything about these couples but didn’t? That getting their partners to see the bad behavior led to a lot more than they bargained for with the Henderson couple?”

                “Someone has been pilfering through my brain waves again,” Mulder had brief eye contact with Scully before he honed in on the baggie with the plastic protective film cartridges in need of developing of the Henderson crime scene, lingering there as he contemplated every unknown factor. “That would certainly cause a killer with a pattern to abandon their routine, possibly giving up more than enough information to be trapped or force them into making a colossal mistake.”

                “It could do a lot of things—including speeding up  the timeline and make them a helluva lot sloppier, too,” Alice had drained the last of her java, the remnants of the liquid teasing her as she shook the cup in her hand and tossed it into the wastebasket, pushing air past her teeth.

                “Detective, maybe you should lead the way in getting all of us to that crime scene, sooner rather than later,” Scully dropped the disposable cup into the trash, already knowing that they had barely tapped the surface over just how much caffeine they’d need as the day continued.

 

 

 

8:20 AM

3100 V Street NE

 

                Privacy glass, bars on the windows, security style garage doors, only two open with the yellow tape blocking every entrance from one end of the building to the other, extending the perimeter all the way to the edge of the sidewalk. The red brick was nearly pristine on the exterior and had been recently scrubbed, power-washed along the sidewalks and three feet up the building, the evidence of a break-in heavily concealed until right against the backdrop. Mulder was the first to slide out of the squad car, the lights of the first responders still heavily present even with the morning sun as the marks on the ground barely made an educated guess at where the bodies traveled. Scully wasn’t far behind as she was conscious of his body language, knowing that he was engrossed in it before even taking a whiff of the air as she watched him slip his hands into the pockets of his coat. He already had that expression written across his face, embossed like it had become part of him, as he was mapping the invisible movements as though he had been there—witnessed it.

                “You’ve got that look in your eye,” Scully slipped under the caution tape as he lifted it, his eyes steadied on the well-concealed lock that had been half sheared along the cement gap. “Should I be worrying?”

                Mulder glanced back at Agent King while she stayed behind to gloss over a file between the fingers of another Agent that was already on scene. “This isn’t exactly an abandoned area—and the businesses that operate out here all have visible signage, storefronts. It’s like they were looking for something familiar enough to break into that guaranteed a certain amount of time before anyone might be stumbling upon the scene.”

                “Opportunity and familiarity…that sounds a little too close to home,” Scully had a distant look in her eye for the first time in days as they maneuvered past the open garage into the open warehouse, the odor of cardboard faint below the stench of blood and cleaning supplies. “A little too much like we’ve been here before for my taste.”

                “This isn’t him, Scully,” Mulder could hear the contemplation swelling as the plastic sheeting was already luring them both in from the corner as the overhead lights swayed on their individual pendulums as the breeze spun into the gaps in the doors. “Don’t compare this brand of sick with that brand of sick or I’ll end up spending tonight, and every night until we catch this son of a bitch, watching you sleep just to make sure you’re still there…I won’t lose you again.”

                “Flattery this early in the morning, Mulder? You’ve barely had a full cup of coffee and you’re already making a girl warm and fuzzy at a crime scene. It isn’t like I sleep anywhere but right next to you these days,” Scully’s resistance to her own smile was futile as the words struck her deeply as she started to kneel, snapping on a singular rubber glove in the process, eyes moving from Mulder to the body in front of her as she pulled back the coverlet, exposing Justin to his collarbone, just above the curvature of the carving into his chest. “This guy suffered so much worse than the others.”

                “Just imagine how I’ll be when I’ve resorted to a cappuccino or three,” Mulder wasn’t looking at the body but at a spot near the floor where visible drag marks had dug into the top layer of cement, marbled with a brassy coloration of blood. “There must’ve been a tarp wrapped around them at one point before they were posed right there…the metal on the eyelets gauged into the cement from the door all the way up and it’s a little deeper along that divot over near the emergency drainage.”

                Scully let out a low grunt as she tilted her head and found the elevated bruising along Justin’s jaw, cheekbone, down his neck, jutting out from spots that she wouldn’t have imagined, the fibers of blue polyester clinging to his hair, along his back, shimmering like little strands of tinsel. “He has at least four different sets of strangulation marks from two, possibly three different sources. Is that reasonable to assume a vendetta or an incredibly discontent perp realizing that he wasn’t giving up on that last shred of life?”

                “Probably a little bit of both,” Lieutenant Perry’s voice came from behind them, her modest heels tapping against the cement as she came from the chatter along the back entrance. “Owner of the business unlocked the building at 5:45 this morning, came in through the back of the building and didn’t realize that the fixture had been completely sheared off.”

                Mulder turned his head and for the first time it was crystal clear of the mirroring that had been on display between Emma and Ava as he couldn’t help but notice the opposition as the Lieutenant’s lack of confidence, posture slacking, and attempt at hiding the figure that was so evidently shared was blatant, in their face. She held a certain level of assertiveness at her hip in the badge that was clipped along the pocket just forward of her holster, the bolder part of herself residing in that notion that if she ever unlocked that button at her side, that she would be sharp in her aim. There wasn’t much of a doubt that she had aced her trials in the range—and wasn’t satisfied with anything but perfection. It was a symptom that often resulted in borderline OCD and behavior that often had underlings transferring out the minute they were eligible if they couldn’t tolerate her brand of excellence. Max had described her well on a personal level and Mulder was filling in the blanks with that side of his brain that often got him into trouble as he found himself making the silent assumption that she didn’t appreciate being made to wait—and her sister was at the top of that list.

                “Did the owner find anything or disturb anything with the bodies when he discovered them in here?” Scully lifted the mesh away from the top of Mrs. Henderson, exposing far enough to where she could properly access her hand, gathering it until she could see the palm of her hand and the underside of her fingernails.

                “He didn’t make it past the threshold about seven feet back where he nearly lost consciousness. The 9-1-1 operator had a difficult time understanding him,” Perry crossed her arms and approached, carrying an evidence bag and a set of gloves. “The first responders said he was nearly hyperventilating when they got here…”

                Scully was fixated on the debris underneath of Mindy’s fingernails as she slid a swab underneath each one and bagged the collected bits on the cotton and plastic, glancing at the bruised injection point on her neck. “Female victim definitely took part of our suspect with her…and they didn’t scrub under her nails to guarantee that traces of DNA couldn’t be found.”

                “I think I figured out the little detail that Donahue hadn’t let us all in on,” Mulder had the mesh sheet over Justin in his gloved hand, holding it at an angle until his entire chest and middle abdomen was exposed, on display.

                The shared turning of heads by Scully and Perry alike as Mulder rested the cover against itself, folding it back until the words were revealed. There couldn’t have been anything more shocking as the word “deserved” had been poorly carved into Justin’s chest with such a heavy hand that the white of bone was stark along the center lettering. It was grisly and the tearing along the skin told a story of the blade that had been there, bitten by serration, torn by the nicks in the curvature. The wounds were shallow in spots where the blade had pulled, ripped into the skin in an odd pattern as though it had been pulled taut to follow the correct directionality. Mulder and Scully wanted to be more horrified but the reality was that they were terribly desensitized after the horror show that Miles had exposed them to and this was simply more of the same with a new set of circumstances to wrap their brains around. Perry had already seen the change in terminology but Scully was drawn in as she blindly handed her the evidence bag while maneuvering closer to Mulder, slowly thumbing along the tracks in the wounds.

                Mulder looked up at Perry as Scully felt the give in the sternum where the blade had notched out the top ribs, popping them free. “Are they both like this?”

                Perry nodded with both evidence bags in her hand, her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “Identical.”

                “It has become very apparent that we are running out of time,” Scully pulled back the sheet over Mindy to find the same word cruelly slashed into her flesh, into the slope and bend of her breasts, almost to the point that one side was edging close to deformity. “I need both of them moved to a sterile environment so we can do a more thorough sweep of the bodies—for any and all particulates.”

                “How bad is it?” Max had been outside for far too long and his expression matched the intensity in his voice as he came up behind them. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

                “I can’t even tell you how much worse it is but, it is,” Scully replaced the cover over Mindy and closed her eyes as the image became ingrained in her mind, replaying much like the nightmares that often plagued her nights. “I don’t know what changed but something so catastrophic changed that this victim became someone worth breaking—someone worth ripping apart.”

                “I see you’ve discovered the little problem that I hadn’t clued everyone in on yet,” Alice’s tone was the epitome of unaffected as she came up along the gridlines with Ava just a couple of steps behind her. “The theory I offered up doesn’t seem so outlandish, now, does it?”

                “This case goes from a simple matter of exposing a cheating man to an unsuspecting partner then forcing him to watch her die in a somewhat quick way before meeting his own, rather unpleasant death to a significantly less pleasant matter of wondering exactly what Mrs. Henderson might’ve done to piss off our perp, right?” Ava was purposely avoiding eye contact with Emma as the two were no more than three feet from each other, the agitation swirling.

                “That’s kind of where I was going with that theory—we should be looking into Mindy Henderson just as much as Justin to see what kind of personal life she actually led, it could help direct us to the missing piece of what has caused this killer to deviate so far from the structure they’ve established,” Alice nodded, watching the subtle changes in body language as everyone became terribly aware of the high anxiety between the Lieutenant and the Special Agent in Charge. “Are you two quite done with this unseemly display of childishness or are you planning on showing everyone your latest tactical scores?”

                “I’m just wondering when she’s going to stop acting like she’s actually been paying attention since every person present here knows she’s been lazy as shit since this case began,” Emma finally smirked and made eye contact with her sister, flashing her teeth as she crossed her arms. “And for fuck’s sake cover up your neck…no one needs to see that.”

                Ava’s jaw dropped open as she shifted her weight from left to right, the subtle clicking of her overpriced heels with every move she made. “Tell everyone how you really feel, Emma...not that any of us are concerned with your very ‘by-the-book’, ball-buster bullshit you keep spewing like some Daisy Do-Right. You do realize no one actually buys any of that, right?”

                “The fact that you managed to get into the FBI let alone pass every one of your classes at Quantico is a fucking miracle and you may have every colleague fooled but none of that works on me,” Emma was seething, her fists shaking as she took a step forward toward Ava.

                “You’re both at a crime scene, take it outside,” Scully lacked the height to truly intimidate either one of them but it didn’t exactly prevent her from spinning around, yanking off her glove and standing between them. “I’m not asking…go.”

                Max waited until both of them were nearly all of the way out of the building to open his mouth, his voice low enough but with enough conviction that it made Alice laugh. “Twins…I told you they were both a little fucking special.”

                “I need to be involved in more of these cases that inevitably involve the reaches of the FBI—it vastly improves my mood,” Alice had a wry grin as she looked over at Max, winking somewhat ironically at him. “Sounds like you could certainly tell a few tales about this particular set of twins?”

                “Far more than I’d like to admit…or get into when we have no suspects or truly tangible leads to put our hands on,” Max looked at Mulder, watching as the profiling instincts were kicking in as the quiet was returning to the space. “You’re piecing all of it together aren’t you?”

                “Been doing that since we arrived,” Mulder crouched along the wall, eyeing the space in a linear pattern as he briefly made eye contact with Scully. “The quiet simply removes the white noise—"

                “And makes it easier to see what none of us actually witnessed,” Scully finished that sentence as she followed the grid to the edge of the posed scene, taking that same pose as Mulder went to that place that he hated to go.

                The safety net that existed between light and dark disappeared as Mulder’s shoulders stiffened, eyes glassed over as he slipped into the shoes of the unknown, into that place that he hated going, where it the lens became dangerous…muddled. He held his breath as he watched Scully’s head tilt and lips press together, knowing that she was the remaining incandescence in the shadows of the locked away parts of his mind. The cocktail of eidetic memory and prolific skills in profiling often left Mulder hanging somewhere close to the edge of psychosis—venturing far nearer to the reaches of what they were chasing than he ever intended. This was the peril as Mulder could already see the rage driving each flash of the directional change of the knife blade, the staggering breaths leaving their unidentified assailant. He could see the barbed edges coming together while each letter formed, spelling the word out until the coagulation of blood was pooled along what remained, smeared by leather covered fingers. This person wasn’t just executing a vendetta…they were driving home a point that this couple had committed such a heinous act, in their eyes, that they were deserving of each moment of pain that had been inflicted along with the degradation of their corpses that followed. Mulder turned his head and spotted the ripped section of tarp stuffed along the edge of equipment, doused in blood, and knew that the final pose involved gathering Mindy by her hair until she was in her position.

                The lipstick was applied, smeared across her lips and cheek, left to right motion until the deep, crimson color nearly touched the hinge of her jaw.

                Deserved. Deserving.

                She was no better than he.

                “Mulder,  come back to me,” Scully echoed through the fog and watched him blink hard as he regained eye contact with her, the distance between them nearly diminished as she had moved forward, as he hadn’t realized he was mumbling.

                Mulder inverted his rubber gloves as he removed them, folding them within each other, sealing in the particulates in the process as he maintained eye contact with her. “This aggressor seeks out each victim for a different reason but it isn’t simply to expose the weakness of the man—it’s to make the woman bear witness to the things that he has done. She either becomes a victim or, in this case, a complicit participant.”

                “Do you think that Mindy Henderson may have cheated or was she okay with the cheating by her husband?” Scully found his palm with her fingertips as he swallowed hard, the abandonment of thought almost taking hold as she tethered him back to reality.

                “I think we need to take a look at Mrs. Henderson’s body on the inside before I know without certainty if it’s one or both of those options,” Mulder’s wheels were still turning, the synapses firing as Scully squeezed his hand, tugging him to her luminescence.

 

 

 

Exterior of the Hay-Adams Hotel

800 16th Street Northwest

9:45 PM

 

                “Vic, you know how these functions go—I’m not upset at all that you couldn’t be here, duty calls,” Renee Miller was still in the back of her limousine, balancing the cell phone against her ear while she checked her lipstick in the compact mirror in the other hand. “Yes, it’s Suzanne’s party…and yes, I’m sure there will be a lot of drinking…Stop worrying.”

                Renee’s eyes were on the expensive bobble catching light on her left hand, delicately perched on her ring finger like a reminder that hadn’t quite become her as she shook that hand and nearly doused herself with a thin layer of powder. The door opened and the light from the hotel, streetlamps, and the display above the hotel entrance shining against the detailed layers of Renee’s dress as she flipped the compact shut. She might’ve been considered overdressed but she was told that it was a Masquerade party underneath one of the most expensive hotels in DC, hosted by the most privileged yet bored women in the area, and to dress like she was worth every cent. She gathered her clutch, slipping the makeup back into it and reached for the lace, rhinestone, and satin mask that had been on the seat next to her before sliding out of the protective warmth of the limo.

                “I’ve been listening to you babble for the last fifteen minutes and I’m here, in a very expensive dress that took two people to tie me into, with more makeup than necessary, and enough glitter to signal anyone in space,” Renee took a deep breath and held the clutch against her side, readying the mask while she kept the phone against her ear. “I get it but you’re literally six hours away and I’m not canceling my plans, Vic…I know, I know, I know…I love you, I’ll be fine. See you soon.”

                She wanted to turn the phone off entirely but she decided against it as she shoved it into the barely accommodating clutch purse, shaking her head as she took a deep breath while her eyes wandered toward the side of the Hay-Adams in all of its grandeur. The thin strap dangled across her shoulder as she held the satin edges of the mask, bringing it up to her eyes until it was in place. It completed the head-to-toe illusion that she had constructed like starlight underneath layers of silvers and deep midnight blues, shimmering as though she had fallen directly from the sky above. She knew that the entire ensemble had attained the desired effect when she felt the open mouthed stares on her from hotel personnel and the roaming eyes of husbands with their less than thrilled wives in tow slapping them back to reality while she tied her anonymity in place. It was a part to play and for the first time since that ring was put on her finger she could feel the wild, uncaged creature peering out through her piercing eyes at every person that dared to make eye contact. Renee was every bit the part as she wandered closer to the entrance of Off the Record, the little red awning barely hiding the gold railing beneath it.

                Renee’s eyes rested on her engagement ring again as the sigh was heavy leaving her lips before letting the amber glow of the entry lamp lure her down each step.

                Fingers slid around the gold handle, pulling the heavily decorated door, the red and black detailing only previewing what lay behind it, the smells of old world meeting ever flowing liquors as she let it wash over her. It was exactly as she’d imagined it would be—elegance meets that high class speakeasy with a touch of bootlegged beauty that could only be trapped at a subterranean level. Every wall was red, black, and gold, feathered edges and satin in spots, blending between the line of seduction and mystery in such a way that only made her want to touch each chair, each table, each light fixture. She made eye contact with the bartender, who was standing behind the taps filling a pilsner and received a singular nod as she stepped closer to the massive, centrally located, nearly octagonal shaped lacquer topped bar. Renee glanced around at the sea of unidentifiable faces, framed by a plethora of different masks that varied in shape, color, style, and material. They had all taken this very seriously and looked like they were fresh from a genuine Venetian Masquerade, some even down to the detail of the clothing.

                “Well, hello, Nyx,” A woman with an awfully familiar voice, clad in a red, gold, and white mask with little feathers along the sides, long, black locks curled and styled to perfection with little strands of gold accents that shimmered in the light, drew Renee’s attention to the right, her dress matching from cleavage to toe like she had been born in it. “Didn’t think you were going to make it?”

                Renee smirked and leaned against the velvet backing of a barstool, her corset top giving her breasts the most generous of squeezes, pushing them up and together like they were an accessory rather than a body part. “Can’t spend every, single night held captive by the lead weight on my left hand and pretend that I am suddenly a prisoner to it, now can I?”

                “You haven’t come to one of my parties in at least two full seasons, Renee…am I going to be getting angry phone calls from Victor wondering where his soon-to-be went off to without him attached to his hip like a sad little kitten?” The drink teetered in her hand, swirling the pinkened Cosmopolitan until it looked like Morganite gems in the light. “You need a drink—what shall the Goddess Nyx have to start before I send her off to be sociable?”

                “Ah, the guilt trip…thanks, Suzanne, but no, he knows I’m here and is moderately fine with it,” Renee glanced around at the room, at the rainbow of colors, of shapes, of the displayed disregard for the status quo as every person was practically shouting just how rich they were just from their attire. “You know what I like, Madame…don’t play.”

                Suzanne flashed her teeth and tapped her fingers against the bar until the blue eyed bartender turned his attention toward her, his grin nearly as brilliant as hers. “Manhattan…three cherries...she likes them.”

                “See? You couldn’t forget a drink like that now could you?” Renee was tickled as she licked her lips before spreading her lipstick more evenly across her bottom lip.

                Suzanne had her own glass up by her mouth as she rolled her eyes, taking her focus off of Renee while she watched a couple of new people walk through the front door. “No, it just took me a second to remember that you used to have a rather prominent oral fixation…and by that acceptance of that drink order, it must still be in full effect which is just splendid. Does Vic know?”

                Renee resembled a deer caught in the headlights as the bartender had her drink already in front of her as the remark left Suzanne’s lips, the blush peeking out from underneath of the mask as she resisted the urge to flee. “My fiancé knows enough about me to know that pendulums do, in fact, swing in two directions—and he is okay with it even if it means that I came pre-packaged with a bunch of very crazy friends who never think before they speak.”

                “Having a filter is boring, darling, you know that,” Suzanne put her freshly emptied Cosmo glass on the lacquer top of the bar and shrugged her shoulders at Renee. “There’s no need to worry about who hears this conversation. Everyone in this room has proclivities that they might not be the most willing to shout from the rooftops…and it’s more than a little safe within this room to have fun here, if you so choose.”

                “You’re a bad influence and could get me into more trouble than you’re worth at this present stage of my life, Madame,” Renee’s eyes were already motioning through the room, at the undeniable presence of sexuality as mouths were exchanging more than pleasantries. “Is that really what you invited me for?”

                Suzanne ran her index along Renee’s jawline from left to right, standing straight until she was glancing just slightly down at the slightly more petite woman in front of her, inflicting chills with her rigid pose. “Can’t I just miss you, even if it’s just a little bit, kitten?”

                “Don’t do that…please?” Renee nearly shrank to the floor, the bundle of nerves already crying out as she stood before the woman that knew her better than she knew herself, unraveling like a snagged sweater. “You know what it does and you know where it leads.”

                “Well, that definitely tells me that your fiancé doesn’t know _everything_ about you,” Suzanne recoiled, her thumb lingering against the curve of Renee’s collarbone where it fiddled with the silver wrapped gem that dangled from her neck. “What a pity you chose to bury part of yourself for a man.”

                Renee reached for her drink and took a healthy swig of it, nearly spilling it on herself in the process, the cherries nearly tumbling out toward her. “I am not here to discuss my personal life and set fire to the delicate state of my psyche, okay? Please just let me have tonight to not be Renee Miller? That’s all I ask.”

                “I didn’t invite you here to fight in spite of your current opinion of me,” Suzanne picked up her fresh Cosmo and sipped it, leaning close to Renee’s ear, sympathy dripping from her lips as the passing of time clearly hadn’t been kind to either of them. “You may not want to hear it but you will always be _my_ pretty little kitten even if you’ve chosen to forget it.”

                The words left Renee’s cheeks burning and her stomach doing flips as she felt each syllable smack her with the most bitter sting of reality while she watched Suzanne walk away to resume mingling with guests. The mistake wasn’t in showing up to feel it all over again but in realizing that she was so willing to let control go jumping out the nearest window to freefall from a high rise all the way to the pavement below. Suzanne was more than a vice, she was Renee’s weakness personified, illuminated, and multiplied by twenty, wrapped in the most elegant and unsuspecting of bows that made it that much harder to say ‘no’ to…and mean it with certainty. She felt wretched, hollow, and used without more than a finger being laid on her as she pulled a barstool out far enough to accommodate her comfortably, sliding up onto it like a clumsy, irritated child.

                “Please tell me you have something stronger than this back there,” Renee jingled the crimson liquid at the bartender, her finger sliding up under the edge of her mask to wipe an errant tear. “It was delicious but it isn’t cutting it tonight.”

                “Parties are supposed to be a good time—but, then again, my job relies on your need for a little liquid shutter for the soul,” His accent was distinctly Southern, intention driven to cover up each little syllable drawl with over-pronunciation to the point that his wording came out a little sharp.

                Renee chewed at the cherry floating in the top of her glass as he tossed a couple of cubes of ice into a rocks glass, eyes briefly wandering at the increasingly obvious PDA going on around her. “I don’t know if I qualify as normal but I’m grasping at that concept of having a better than average time…for a change.”

                “I don’t need to know details over what has you graspin’ at anythin’ but maybe you should try something that I do whenever I slip on this suit to serve fancy gents and ladies, like yourself,” His accent slipped as he slid a hefty double in front of her, the perfect cubes of ice rolling around until the glass was dead center between her hands. “Let the clothes wear you—you don’t wear the clothes. Be what you came here tonight to be in the clothes you’re in…she’s confident.”

                “That’s one of the more interesting ways of looking at it,” Renee could still feel the ever present eyes of Suzanne on her, piercing into her soul as she brought the glass up to her lips, the scent of honey and whiskey thick under her nostrils. “To letting the clothes wear you.”

                “That’s the spirit,” He had kind eyes, little flecks of gold along the centers of his brown irises, and if she hadn’t been thoroughly preoccupied with the uneven heat brewing from an interface with Suzanne, there might’ve been a moment where he might’ve been more than enough to take her mind off life. “Does that drink satisfy the twitch?”

                Renee giggled at the obvious reference to her pinkened cheeks as she nodded from behind the glass. “Yes, it’s smooth and bites just hard enough to feel it…”

                “Kind of like those two busty creatures in the corner booth?” He smirked and tilted his head to the side, glancing toward the velvet, plush red booths with next to no lighting in the corner. “I’m fairly certain that both of them have husbands wandering around here somewhere.”

                She didn’t want to make it painfully obvious that she was looking but her curiosity was piqued as she glanced toward the corner to see the alternating between heavy petting, necking, and loud, sloppy kissing that had her feeling like she was watching something she shouldn’t have been. She would have been lying if she would have said it wasn’t affecting her but she remembered more than one occasion of being one of those women, with her dress gathered awkwardly above the knee, knowing that everyone could see exactly how far fingers were traveling up her thigh. If it weren’t for the lull of music, Renee was certain that she would hear the involuntary yearning slipping forth by way of whimpers and moans while exposure became nothing more than a moot point in a crowded room. Conflict rose in her belly as she wanted nothing more than to feel that same level of excitement and feeling in spite of the risks to her engagement, her future, the impressionable situation that had gone unresolved, as she involuntarily gasped, audibly squeaking with a mouthful of whiskey.

                “I’d say that they might be biting a little harder than this drink,” Renee was warm all the way up to her ears as she contemplated fishing a cube of ice from the glass to slide it along her skin as she swallowed hard, tearing her eyes away to look at the bartender. “It doesn’t appear as though they’re the only ones having a little fun, though.”

                “It’ll be like that all night…are you sure you really know what you’re doing here?” His question was direct as he topped off her glass of whiskey without being asked to do so, stare burning into her soul like he had been utilized for this party for more than his looks and skills.

                “I’ll be fine,” Renee undoubtedly stammered as she crossed her legs and turned the barstool just a little, angling her elbow onto the lacquer top while she picked up the glass, drinking a little more before continuing. “Exactly how familiar are you with the hostess of tonight’s festivities?”

                “Familiar enough to know that anyone that calls her Madame also has a pet name…and by that expression, you still answer to it,” His nametag was visible but she wasn’t looking at it as she leaned back, a little frustrated by how transparent she had become. “You’re upset at how right I am, huh?”

                “It isn’t appreciated to have a perfect stranger start reading you like they’re Miss Cleo, but I’m not upset,” Renee was battling her desire to give in as the heat of the drink collided with the fire in her belly that had been raging since the moment she laid eyes on Suzanne, as her eyes finally read the name tag. “You should be cheering me up, not riling me up, Christopher.”

                “The extreme definition of both of those word don’t have drastically different definitions from the each other,” Christopher had a cube of ice between his fingers, the little bits of water dripping from his grip as it melted, purposely angling his hand forward until the droplets landed along the already hot skin of Renee, making her jump but not withdraw. “One seems to feed the other and most people that attend these things are very much into it, consent to it, request it, and fuel it…you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t aware.”

                Renee blinked as he was burning a hole through her with a stare that made her feel naked as the droplets dribbled along her skin, making little patterns like rain on a window, pushing her heart rate a little further. “I’m very aware—you’re not just here to bartend, are you?”

                “Do you want me to just bartend?” Christopher was glancing over her shoulder as his voice dropped an octave while his fingers continued to float the shrinking cube of ice across her skin, inviting the goosebumps with every little pass. “I don’t think you want me to _just_ bartend…”

                “Dammit,” Renee nearly dropped the glass as she felt the familiar, feminine advances against her back that preceded the fingers through her hair until they gripped just enough to tilt her head to one side while the barstool turned until she was facing Christopher all over again. “Wait…wait…wait…fuck.”

                Renee went off like a struck match as teeth set against her neck while Christopher aptly slid the cube of ice all the way to her shoulder, persuading a soft, lengthy groan from her as the hand in her hair only held on tighter, tugging her head back. She knew, deep down, who it was, but the sensation had her head swimming as her eyes rolled back while lips dragged toward her earlobe, the heat of her breath sending chills down Renee’s back and arms in unison. She had no intention of protesting as Christopher guided that ice cube higher, slipping it it across exposed cleavage as the aggressive mouth at her neck smeared red lipstick across her skin and disturbed the carefully sprayed glitter that had covered that spot. That familiar hand with red, gold, and white manicured fingernails covered her own, removing the glass with a clever swiftness as it started to slide free from Renee’s failing grip, setting it onto the bar before moving across her neck, caressing the curve of her jaw. Renee couldn’t help but meet gazes with her as a moan left her mouth, the perfectly framed face hidden by a mask still ripping her apart with her eyes as she parted Renee’s lips with the tip of her thumb.

                “I told you that I missed you, kitten, and I meant it,” Her voice dropped an octave as she hovered dangerously close to her jaw, licking the space below her lips as her fingers slid down her cleavage, spreading the water droplets across the curve of her breasts. “I know you ached for me—or you’d tell me to stop.”

                Renee held her breath and watched as a second bartender took over Christopher’s job at the other end of the bar as she glanced at the gold, red, and white mask that was hovering into her diminishing personal bubble. It was completely tactile overload as masculine hands were delicately, almost teasingly running across bare skin while she tilted toward waiting, hungry lips that had been long overdue in waiting for hers. Renee recognized her perfume, her taste, the cleverness of her impatient tongue as it slid past teeth and lips, overwhelming every nerve in Renee’s body as her eyes closed with every advance made. Renee couldn’t help the audible, muffled moans as they went into Suzanne’s eager, skilled mouth two sets of hands played against the outside of her dress, giving the intricate layers a series of tugs until she could feel the air against her thighs. The chill only intensified every sensation as she slid her fingers across the top of one of Christopher’s hands that had crept high on her thigh, while her other hand groped blindly for Suzanne’s.

                Christopher had his tongue affixed between his teeth firmly as he guided Renee’s hand to Suzanne’s free hand and watched as she dragged it to the same spot where his was, encouraging both of them higher on her inner thigh. “Christ…”

                Renee’s lips popped free, unceremoniously bringing everyone back to reality as more than one hand was within reach of making one hell of a wet spot all over the bar stool. “I want this but not here, not like this…if you want me you need to take me anywhere but here.”

                Suzanne knew she was serious and nodded slowly, the breathiness in her voice taking over as she wiped her own lips and watched Renee collect herself against the barstool. “Let me get freshened up and I’ll meet you outside?”

                “Um, do you, maybe need, or want, any assistance?” Christopher didn’t want to admit it but he was hiding an erection from behind the bar and was more than willing to be the middle in between them as he did his best not to sound desperate.

                Renee leaned across the bar as she stood up, pulling him by his tie until she could lick him across the mouth, her other hand dipping below the bar to cop a feel that coaxed a low groan from him. “Maybe another time…thanks for ruining my panties, Christopher.”

                She felt flimsy, like she was floating as she slipped off the barstool and fixed the layers of her dress, stealing another glance with Suzanne before walking toward the door. She felt the liquor running through her, bubbling to the surface as the cool, night air made every inch of her skin twitch as she came to the top of the stairs. The lingering trepidations were evaporating, leaving behind the saturated, raw sexual energy that she had been suppressing for an unhealthy amount of time despite the rather sizable ring balanced on her left hand. She had forgotten a piece of herself along the way and she had done it all for the man that had put that enormous gem on her finger, claiming it all in the name of love—but it certainly felt a lot like something else as the seconds turned into minutes at the top of the stairs waiting for fate to intervene.

                “I guess I’m going home alone tonight…figures that I’d be teased and left waiting again,” Renee muttered and started down the sidewalk, toward the opposite corner, with the intention of calling a cab as she started reaching for her clutch at her side.

                The shimmer of red, gold, and white, with the little feathers along the mask out of the corner of her eye framed perfectly with the bouncing, raven curls atop her head as Renee turned her head entirely. The height difference was apparent and enriched as Renee’s back slid up against the wall and hands invaded her dress all over again. The brick dug into her exposed shoulders while she instinctively spread her fingers across the cool surface to hold herself up, the hunger of the woman in front of her more than a little evident as she resumed the same maneuver from inside the bar with her hand straight up her dress. The moan was hard to contain as very slender, agile fingers wasted no time in moving directly underneath of the silky material of Renee’s panties, teasing wetness with her middle finger until the whimpers were finally audible. Anyone passing by would’ve heard it—and seen exactly what was happening as the throbbing between Renee’s legs only increased with that realization, with that notion.

                “More…please…Oh God,” Renee was already begging as the breeze wafted past wet lips before a thumb pressed against her clit and withdrew, making her legs nearly drop. “Fuck…keep going…”

                “Not here…not yet, kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know…I know! This has been long in the waiting and then I go leaving you with a literal cliff hanger. This one was tough on so many levels. I hope that part three was received in a way that made sense. I haven’t written about this topic so go easy on me.
> 
> As always, thank you to Monika for being my constant ears and feedback on this – you’re as close to a beta that I’ve had and I don’t know what I’d do without your input.
> 
> References made  
> Dudley Do-Right with “Daisy Do-Right”  
> Alice’s former division is a real division – Baltimore Sex Offense Unit
> 
> Quote by  
> Andre Berthiaume  
> Paolo Buonvino & Deborah Ann Dyer


	6. Ingeminate and Explicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And, after all, what is a lie? ‘Tis but the truth in masquerade.” – Lord Byron 
> 
> A dalliance becomes a horror for Renee as she becomes painfully aware of the price of hiding behind more than one mask. The team, in spite of the growing tension, makes a bold theory about their unknown killer while a former adversary decides to make a wild, unnecessary play for the insanity plea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Intense sexual situations, direct mention of BDSM/fetish Dom/Sub interaction and intense, violent description in the aftermath. Proceed with caution. **
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

 

 

_See these eyes so green_

_I can stare for a thousand years_

_Colder than the moon_

_It’s been so long_

_Feel my blood enraged_

_It’s just the fear of losing you_

_Don’t you know my name?_

_You’ve been so long_

_And I’ve been putting out the fire with gasoline_

-“Cat People” by David Bowie & Giorgio Moroder

 

 

11:00 PM

6000 Block of Grove Drive

Belle Haven Neighborhood

Alexandria, VA

 

                Renee could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, weaving in and out with the liquor that had begun to make its presence felt as the halos around every streetlamp commenced the slow growth outward as they drove further. The scenery went in and out of focus as the flashes of heat elevated in her cheeks while the pretty fingernails across her thighs kept her from pulling the bottom of her dress back down even at red lights. She had never been one for exhibitionism but she was to the point that she no longer cared how many people bore witness to her torture as the woman next to her purposely rolled the window down just enough that anyone could see just how far up her dress those fingers had been gliding, teasing, reminding. The thought had crossed Renee’s mind more than a few times to pop the front closure on her corset hooks free and flood out of the top of the gown but that would’ve been far too easy—or too hard in her current state as she watched her own hands white knuckle the armrests.

                “You thought I’d forgotten about where you like to be touched, didn’t you, kitten?” The voice raked over her, melodic yet commanding enough that her eyes shot open and her mouth closed, listening to every syllable as it left her lips.

                Renee’s eyes rolled back as she tilted her head toward her, those eyes momentarily glancing at her from behind the wheel as she turned onto Grove Drive. “Yes, I did, Madame…I thought you’d forget about me.”

                “I could never forget you and I know you’ll never forget about me,” She squeezed Renee’s inner thigh enough to beguile a low, drawn-out cry that stayed muffled between her teeth as she clenched just a little. “Will you?”

                The temptation to corroborate it was rolling on the tip of her tongue but so was the urge to beg for it as Renee’s head fervently began shaking. “No, Madame…I never will.”

                The shift of control left Renee a little breathless as she felt every muscle go weak and cry out in unison as she knew she had given up the last of her will without hesitating all over again. Renee had been powerless to this woman for so long, deep down, and confronting her now only left her aching for more and yearning to simply let go of any shred of command that was left within her. Guilt wasn’t even brewing or increasing beyond an idling within her as her fiancé crossed her mind for a split second and passed on by as she realized she had been running from letting him have every bit of her in the same way that she had given herself to the darkness within her. She was ready to take his name and give up her claim on the past but found herself staring down the very real barrel of the truth as she felt the overwhelming need that now sat in the driver’s seat in the literal and figurative way. There wasn’t any denying that she loved Victor but she wasn’t herself around him and he wasn’t himself with her—they were like two ships with weapons drawn, aimed and readied.

                They just hadn’t lit the fuses to blow every last bit of what remained of their seemingly perfect existence to smithereens for the entire world to see.

                The glint of the diminishing light in the front seats of the SUV bounced off the ring on her finger as a final corner was turned and the smooth pavement became interrupted cobblestones of an elevated drive. It captured the attention of her Madame next to her as she casually slipped her palm across the top of it, shrouding the dazzling light completely. Renee glanced up toward the windshield as the pretty, two-story house unfolded as a large blur in her field of vision. Anticipation wouldn’t have done the sensations growing within her any justice as the SUV shifted into park and the ignition was turned off, a hum echoing as they both sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity until instincts met need. Renee was the first to move, seeking the red, shimmering lips framed beautifully by the adorned mask and falling red curls, waiting only for the approval of allowance, of letting her in.

                It wasn’t dominance that she sought but, to instead, further the hunger that rested squarely within the statuesque grasp of the woman that had gotten her halfway to the point of impatient and unsettled.

                “You haven’t improved on your patience at all, have you, kitten?” There was a hint of laughter hidden in the question as she pressed her index to Renee’s clavicle until she created a modest bubble between them. “I could almost parade you topless through the neighborhood, leave you on the porch, and you’d still let me do whatever I wanted to you afterward…wouldn’t you, kitten?”

                “I’ve gotten worse on my forbearance, Madame,” Renee hadn’t been humiliated in a very long time but it had her quivering as she even fathomed the idea in her head. “Yes I would, Madame.”

                “Good, now get out,” It wasn’t a request as she ran a single hand down her cheek before sliding out of the driver’s seat, shutting the door soundly with a certain expectation that Renee would be standing in front of the SUV before she could adjust the strap of her purse.

                The delicate material of Renee’s dress swayed with the gentle breeze as she stood with her eyes downturned, carefully standing just feet in front of the SUV as her demure, heavily submissive side was bubbling to the surface. She had memorized that stance and wore it like a second skin for so very long, in situations that hadn’t even necessarily warranted it, simply out of instinct, but kept it well-guarded and hidden from the man that had put the ring on her finger. It sent a shiver down her spine as she felt eyes on her, both with approval and examination of her as the taller, redheaded woman circled her once while her soft, agile fingers glided along the skin between Renee’s shoulders.

                The action was ritualistic and had Renee holding her breath as she felt her knees go weak as those same beautiful digits crossed along her cleavage and dotted up her neck to the tip of her chin, tilting it up to meet another soul-consuming gaze.

                “I want you, upstairs, wearing nothing but your thigh highs and heels…with a drink in your hand, kitten,” A hunger was buried in her voice as she stood in front of her, teasing Renee’s lips with the tip of her tongue, thumbs sliding down against the slope of her cleavage. “Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

                “Yes, Madame,” Renee’s voice cracked and welcomed a wide smile in return that preceded a gentle, warm, virtually loving kiss that had her teetering in her heels.

                This was exactly what she had worried about, for so long, as she felt that familiar tongue slide across her mouth, reminding her that she didn’t belong to a man but belonged to the woman who had already made it plain her intent on the rest of the night’s events. Renee blindly followed her elegant gate up the porch steps and into the house, the scent of vanilla, freesia, white tea, and citrus almost overwhelming her as she entered the Depression-era, cottage style home with vintage, bronzed fixtures. She didn’t recognize anything but knew it was hers by that signature, feminine red design that adorned the entry curtains to her left and right against the thin, six feet high windows that nearly matched the entire length of the door. Her palms lingered against the heavy velvet as the lights along the stairwell were turned on, a guiding light up toward the bedroom as the red, curly locks swept away from glittered shoulders as she pushed the door shut before pulling Renee toward the kitchen island.

                “Your only choice tonight…ice or no ice?” Her Madame winked from behind the distinguished, classic looking mask, her long lashes coated in a shimmer as they closed and opened again before maneuvering toward the display of liquor on the counter.

                “Depends on what we’re having?” Renee bit down on her lip over the assertive tone she took but knew that ice depended greatly on what it was supposed to float in.

                The sneer was wicked as she flashed her teeth at Renee, wiggling a bottle of Remy Martin 1738 Accord Royal Cognac at her. “Only the best for my pretty, unnerving, impatient little kitten.”

                “On the rocks,” Renee glanced at the chandelier shimmering in the dining room to the left, in the dimmed space with far too many breakable items hiding away in practically perfect, designer hutches that had been passed down through the generations.

                Renee had a feeling that the addition of an aged cognac to the already ripe situation was simply pouring gasoline on a lit bonfire as she watched the deeply butterscotch liquid pour over ice in a crystal Old Fashioned glass with frosted swirls along the bottom. They both had known better than to allow intoxication to become a factor in their interaction but found themselves speeding toward that end as glasses were filling and usual boundaries were blurred, erased. It was more than playing with fire; the danger to both of them was high and Renee felt it deep within her in spite of wanting every little thing implied as a promise. She cleared her throat as the amount was considerably more than a double as her fruitless protests were only met by a heady stare as her Madame finished pouring the second, less than half filled glass. The smirk was not amused as the top was replaced on the bottle and it was slid into place, the silence filling the room as she approached Renee with a less than pleased expression developing behind those haunting eyes. She extended the heavily filled glass toward Renee, her tongue clearly poised between her teeth as she jutted her chin toward her, irritation brewing.

_Strike one_ , she had determined. She wasn’t getting away with that little stunt.

                “You know you’re in trouble, don’t you?” She used her glass to gesture toward the stairs as she flicked the lights off in the kitchen, lack of patience lurking in her voice.

                Renee momentarily hesitated as she saw the darkness in her eyes but pushed forward, continuing toward the stairs. “I know, Madame.”

                The clicking of the deadbolt locking almost tossed Renee off balance as she held her breath and took gentle, tentative steps up, ascending toward the source of the light, toward another twist of kismet. She wasn’t the kind of woman to believe in providence or astral influence but she did, however, believe in karma and in the three Fates, as all good little mythology nuts would and knew that her choices had led her here, to this moment. Her eyes glanced back, at the feathers as they danced around those piercing, green eyes, stirring the string of butterflies in her belly as she felt her heels slip over the last of the wood finish to touch the second floor. Training had taught her not to let her stare linger too long but the limit pusher within her was already pushing for strike two as she felt the sting of a rather healthy swat to her backside through all layers of her dress.

                “Did I tell you to stop moving?” Renee couldn’t even react to the slap to her ass as the growl in her ear was considerable along with the grip in her hair, yanking her backwards just enough to throttle her.

                “No, Madame,” Renee’s eyes nearly rolled back as she balanced the glass in her hand, neatly keeping the liquid inside of it while she felt another rush of energy blast her between her thighs as she desired nothing more than to do it again.

                “That’s what I thought,” She knew the effect that the hair pulling had on Renee as she let go and sent her stumbling toward the bedroom door, the satisfactory grin plastered on her lips just below the curve of her mask. “I wonder what kind of punishment I should choose for you for that little maneuver downstairs…I have so many choices.”

                Renee had a fair amount of fear trapped within her gut in spite of the unbridled curiosity that was taking over the rest of her as she found the first of four posts that supported the bed, at the foot. Her free hand wrapped around the top and found indentations left by wood and metal followed by a series of scratches left by fingernails that had barely taken the finish off. Her hand continued further, finding various notches that distinctively resembled the kind that heels would leave. She thumbed over each one, feeling each little groove, noting when each one changed direction or suddenly became deeper, less shallow into the sturdy, well-built frame of the bed. Most people would’ve sanded them away but her Madame carried a certain level of pride in having each one clear, visible, in any light.

                These were trophies.

                “Speaking completely out of turn…out of pure curiosity, are any of these mine or did you get a new bed?” Renee leaned against the support between the posts, taking a sip of the Cognac as her eyes drifted toward the full-length mirror in the corner near the door to the closet.

                “I know you remember,” She pressed up against Renee’s back, sliding her middle and index along the curve of her collarbone to brush her hair out of the way before push her fingers into the top of the corset, grazing a waiting, needy nipple, wheedling a low moan from her in the process. “The stilettos are yours. You’re the only one that has ever worn them in this bed other than me.”

                The burn of the liquor moving down her throat met the heat that had begun to sear with the fingers down the top of the dress, the gooseflesh forming with every breath she took after swallowing as sensations flooded her nerves. It was sweet agony as Renee felt the cool pressure of a second glass push against her empty hand as her Madame silently handed it to her. She obliged the move, wrapping her left hand around the second glass and glanced back just in time to watch as the satin laces that held her dress together were painstakingly loosened, loop by loop. Renee inhaled sharply as the hand gathering around her breast squeezed it possessively while teeth set against the curve of her shoulder, working their way toward her earlobe, breathing heavily against her skin. The lack of straps was making things considerably easier on both of them as the front closures on the corset started to pop free in different spots and slide free, exposing only part of Renee’s breasts to the air as she swayed with the glasses in her hands against the footboard.

                “Don’t move unless I ask you to,” Her voice was like velvet against Renee’s ears as she pulled the corseting open completely in the front of the dress and cupped both breasts from behind while nibbling on Renee’s neck. “Am I making myself perfectly clear, kitten?”

                “Ah, yes, Madame,” Renee gasped and gritted her teeth, vocalizing with her mouth closed and both her knees buckled against the cold, finished surface of the footboard.

                Renee had grown increasingly unsteady in her heels as she adjusted her weight between each foot, the lightest of tapping against the hardwood underneath barely noticeable above her whimpers and panting. Renee stared down at the two glasses in her hands as she pressed her toes a little harder against the floor, doing everything she could not to spill as her knees were pushed apart just enough to accommodate the top of a thigh. The anxiety was rising as she felt the absence of the delicious level of teasing slip away from her, leaving her cold against the foot of the bed, the sounds of heels tapping along the wood toward the opposite side of the room. There was a low, lulling hum and a tapping sound along the top of a dresser as Renee glanced in the mirror, watching the long, bouncing curls in the reflection as they stood against a spot in the corner. She knew better than to move and stack another punishment against her, not tonight, not when she could already feel arousal soaking the thin, silky material of her panties.

                Renee nearly flipped around as a stuttered clicking had her imagining the most problematic of options but the gentle thumping of the bass against the floor settled her into her position, exhaling slow.

“I’ll take mine, kitten,” The brief touch against her arm made her shudder against the bed as one of the glasses was pulled from her grip. “Now turn around, take off everything except for your panties, garter belt, thigh highs, and your heels…make sure you’re not neglecting your drink.”

                Her Madame had been picking a CD and pondering over a weapon of choice from the wide array of little implements of torture that had been hanging carefully in the same corner, intensifying Renee’s eagerness. She wanted the one that would leave the most marks, carry that sting across the surface of her skin and flipped the switch, elevate her body temp, awaken the creature that had been sleeping for far too long. Renee stood straight and purposely turned her head toward the mirror, taking a sip as she found that her Madame was looking back at her from a standing position by the stereo, eyes burning through the holes in the mask. Renee’s left hand drifted to the laces along her backside, pulling until the top layer gave way, the already freed corset dragging it all the way to the floor. She kept the glass up by her mouth as she tilted her hips with the beat, turning around as she pulled the pins from her hair and let it all fall to her shoulders in a cascade of flowing locks, discarding the decorative pins on the edge of the dresser.

                Overt, typical seduction wasn’t her strong suit but she craved the feeling of those perfectly manicured fingers everywhere on her and full, red lips marking her thighs like arrows, moving upward until the room turned upside down. Renee took a sip as she took careful steps forward, stepping out of the falling skirt, looking every bit like the sex deprived kitten that she had been named and pushed her Domme onto the cushioned, dressing bench behind her. The position put her eyes at Renee’s breast level, the scent of rose oil, spice, and hints of pear radiating off of her skin wafting through her as Renee tilted her head back to lick her bottom lip. The smile was hiding on those red lips as Renee rolled her hips, guiding one of her hands up her thigh, biting down on her own lip until she took another healthy swig of the Cognac. Renee reached into the mess of hair that her own locks had become and pulled the satin that was attached to her mask, loosening it carefully until her face was completely exposed to the patient, sanguine Madame with her hands carefully exploring the curve of her stomach as she moved to the music.

                “I want to fucking tear you apart,” Her voice carried over the music as she watched Renee licked the outside of the glass as she captured an errant droplet of the amber colored fluid, her eyes locked on the woman posed precariously underneath of her.

                Renee had a wry little grin as she gripped her shoulder and leaned forward, purposely avoiding a waiting mouth that was yearning for a kiss as she diverted her lips toward her ear. “What’s stopping you?”

                The gumption was there, mixing in her system with a healthy shot of liquor and the hormones that were now raging as she backed up just a little bit and knelt in front of her, giving the front of her dress a strong tug in the process. Renee was still fixated on giving up all of the control as she stared up at the green-eyed creature with her mask still on and every shred of her dress still firmly in place as she leaned forward, pulling at each little eyelet on the front of the dress. She popped the entire front of the soft, perfectly fitting corseted material open until the ivory-toned skin of her ample breasts were finally within her reach, inches from her lips. The involuntary, audible gasp had Renee locking eyes with her Madame as she encroached on the eclipsing space between them, setting her teeth against the pretty, pinkened skin of an already hardened nipple while her free hand pinched the other.

                “Oh, fuck!” The vocalization was loud as Renee’s tongue slid along the nipple between her teeth, instantly causing her Madame to grip the back of her head, grabbing her by the hair, yanking it just enough to get a rather healthy moan to reverberate onto her skin in the process. “Shit.”

                Renee knew exactly what she was doing as she carefully withdrew her mouth from the heavily reddened nipple, setting the half-empty glass onto the floor next to her knee, leaving only a small amount of space between. “Tear You Apart” looped on a second play as Renee’s lithe, lively fingers gathered the hem of the long, elegant dress before her, hiking it clear to her Madame’s thighs in a swift, fluid motion. For a moment, the table flipped on its side as Renee elevated onto her knees, spreading apart the nylon covered thighs before her until the red silk with lace trim flashed at her like a beacon, inviting her to touch, to tempt, to make her cry out to the ceiling. She took back a little bit of the command of the situation as she narrowed the space between them and slipped her middle and index fingers along the heat that began to radiate through the thin material of her panties. The action had betrayed the rough exterior of the woman promising punishments as her head tilted back, mouth opened, and moans rattled against everything she touched.

                “Your poker face is much better than mine,” Renee flicked a nipple with her free hand and watched her Madame jump while her fingers continued to alternate between rubbing and teasing her sex.

                Her green eyes flickered at Renee as she tilted her head to the side and watched her, her voice breathy as she involuntary bucked against her hand. “You’re already in a shitload of trouble, keep at it, kitten…pile it on…”

                There weren’t any doubts of just how much trouble she was in but she liked knowing that she was making her quiver as she flicked her thumb along the wettest, hottest point and heard the growl pass through her Madame’s teeth. Renee teased her thoroughly until she could see the wet spot forming as she slipped the material off to one side and gently parted the already dripping folds to slip her middle finger into her wet, hot center. The sound that left her lips was ragged and high pitched, as she white-knuckled the edge of the cushion and stared toward the ceiling while Renee’s finger pumped in and out of her in slow, methodical refrain. It was agonizing and only made her want to rip the dress that was still clinging to her midsection completely free so she could flip Renee onto her back and return the favor.

                Renee had other plans, as did her trembling, pulsating sex as she nearly rode the fingers easing in and out of her, poised just in the right spot that a thumb was pressed against her swollen clit, driving her toward the edge.

                “Yes, oh, my God, yes, kitten, more!” The guttural cries had begun to drown out the music completely as Renee moved her index and middle finger a little faster in and out, getting her to the point that her ass was coming up off of the cushion in the process.

                Renee’s head dipped low, her arm wrapped carefully around the writhing thigh and she blew cool air against the exposed, more than ready clit before circling that same bundle of flesh and nerves with the tip of her tongue. She had been out of practice utilizing her mouth on anyone but a man for quite some time but the desire to please was taking center stage as she felt a hand sliding through her hair, pushing her face just a little deeper. Renee squeezed her thigh, pushing her knee outward just a little further as her tongue made a figure eight, crossing over the top of her own fingers that were still playing her like an instrument, persuading loud, long, aching moans to the heavens. The motion was driving her Madame crazy in more than one sense as her backside came rising off of the seat again and slid forward, nearly knocking over the glass of Cognac on the floor. Renee held onto her a little tighter, dragging the flat of her tongue up her clit until she felt every muscle tighten around her fingers before the shrill, high-pitched cry filled the room.

                “I’m coming!” She rocked her hips while Renee slid her palm across the top of her abdomen, holding her in place as teased, licked, and nibbled the sensitive spots, making the quaking that much more intense. “Son of a bitch!”

                Renee gripped her as she struggled, demanding more of that heat in spite of the healthy tug to her hair while she swirled her tongue across wet, dripping folds, effortlessly splitting every agonizing sensation as she alternated between licking and sliding her fingers back in. Renee didn’t consider herself a needy lover but she liked hearing the moans and the feeling of thighs around her shoulders shaking with every move that she made. The fingers coiled through her hair slipped and pulled tighter; finally popping her mouth free from drawing the last figure eight with the tip of her tongue against the wet, dripping spot much to Renee’s chagrin. Renee let out a yelp as her Madame dragged her up by her hair, eagerly tasting her own wetness on the lips and tongue as she scooted forward, tilting Renee’s chin up as she smeared her lipstick with the sloppiest of kisses she could muster.

                “You’ve been holding out on me, kitten,” Her words came out like a breathy, trapped whisper as she kept her mouth close to Renee’s, licking her bottom lip as she re-established her balance on the bench, soaking the cushion in the process. “Stand up.”

                Renee had a satisfied smirk on her lips as she reached for her glass, slowly rose up from her knees and licked her lips a little more tantalizingly than she normally would have. “I’m full of surprises when I want something.”

                “What exactly do you want?” She stood, delicately removing the shroud that he dress had become, tossing it over the edge of the very same bench with a fresh, wet stain where her fluids had dripped. “Other than to ruin a perfectly good pair of my panties…”

                “I want…” Renee trailed off as she watched her Madame slip out of her own, thoroughly soaked panties, leaving her thigh highs attached to the garter belt as she reached for her own glass to sip it. “Welts on my ass and my thighs when I orgasm. Make it hurt, Madame, please?”

                “That’s my kitten,” She waited for Renee to finish the last of the Cognac in her glass before taking the empty glass from her, gesturing for her to move toward the footboard again. “You know where I like you.”

                Renee could still feel the bass beat along the floor as she moved toward the bed and pushed her knees against the wood before leaning down, spreading her arms across the comforter, gripping it like she had to. She knew that she had tested limits and patience beyond a fair level but wasn’t prepared for the cold pressure of steel as it pressed against her backside in a two-inch section. Renee audibly gasped but didn’t dare move or protest as she felt and heard the distinctive pressure change of scissors cutting away her panties from the bottom up. She had made the mistake of not wearing them on the outside of her garter belt and it was far too much work to undo everything to keep her thigh highs firmly in place. The air nipped at her skin as the scissors met the top band of her panties and dropped back, leaving her rear exposed and half quivering.

                It left her wetter than she had first realized as the chills went down her legs and across her ass.

                She was given no recovery time as the scissors were replaced by a swift, well-aimed crack of the riding crop against her left cheek that sent a reverberating sting through every nerve in her body. Renee bit down on her lip and dragged her fingernails down the comforter as another swat came down on her right cheek slightly higher than the one on her left. She knew, with certainty, that both hits had left red lines and imprints as the leather bit into her skin over and over with an unquestionable amount of unpredictability as her Madame alternated between heavy-handed and gentle, with a less than formulaic pattern. Renee’s knees rubbed against the cold wood, while her heels slipped across the floor just enough to cause the next series of swats to slide as they hit against her thighs, leaving scratch-like patterns across the space below her backside.

                That is the moment that she saw stars in her field of vision and her muffled moans found the soft, quilted top of the comforter.

                “Dripping already? I’ve barely even touched you, kitten,” The words washed over her as fingers grazed her lips, dragging wetness along the slick, hot folds until Renee bucked against her hand. “Naughty, naughty, we’re not there yet.”

                “More, more, more, more,” Renee knew where the begging would lead her as she felt another swift rapping against her entire backside, focused along a straight line where the braided material was now leaving welts instead of red marks.

                She raked her nails over fresh marks, smirking at the groaning that came from Renee’s lips as she watched her fingers dig deeper into the comforter. “Kitten, get on the bed…right now.”

                Renee was already halfway to sluggish as her destroyed panties dropped to the floor the moment she started to pull herself onto the bed. She wavered, her balance not quite all there as she whimpered with every twitch that her muscles made. There was zero intention of helping Renee crawl onto the bed, in fact, the opposite approach was taken as she gripped her by her hips, pulling her backwards, plunging a finger into pure electric, soaking wet heat. Renee cried out and writhed in her arms, tilting her shoulder to let an equally hungry mouth devour hers, if only for a moment. Her Madame captured Renee’s bottom lip, biting down just enough to make her pull back, half tumbling onto the pillows as the not so gentle finger glided free, nearly making her spill over right there. Renee looked up at those green eyes as they framed the pretty, swollen pout that had the remnants of bright, red lipstick clinging and watched that very same finger slip into her mouth, tasting what had been aching for her for so long. Renee reached for the mask only to have her hand swatted away as she moved between her legs and pushed her toward the headboard.

                “If I really am your Madame, then all you need to see is what I choose to let you see,” She licked Renee’s waiting lips and grazed her fingernails down both breasts, making her gasp into the air.

                Renee nodded, the unrelenting throbbing between her legs reminding her of how badly she wanted every second of what was intended as her Madame’s thigh grazed her wetness. “Madame, please, leave it on.”

                It wasn’t a white flag but a red one waving emphatically into the air as their lips met all over again, enveloping into the comforter, against the bedding while hands sought out every tender spot, squeezing, rubbing, invading. Renee moaned into her Madame’s mouth as the feathers grazed her skin, tickling the side of her forehead just a little as she pushed Renee’s hands across the pillows, raking fingertips across tender flesh until she found her palms. She held her there, arms spread out like a fetishized version of the crucifix and pushed her thigh along the wet folds between them, seducing a breathy cry that pushed their mouths apart. Their eyes met as Renee watched her Madame torment her body as she ran a hand down every inch of skin from her wrist to her belly button, lingering there as she licked her lips, almost waiting for the affirmation. Renee’s angled her hips, grinding upward, pushing against her thigh, desperate for contact and finally felt the twitch of digits as they became buried in her wetness.

                The game hadn’t ended even though the noises Renee was making were making her Madame quite wet herself as she pumped her fingers only a few times before withdrawing from the quivering spot only to swat her hard across the right thigh. The wail was loud, but brief, as Renee bit down on her bottom lip and clenched her thighs, the ghost of a handprint developing across her skin as her Madame’s mouth sunk to her chest. Her eyes rolled back as she gave in, gave up the control, and allowed her knees to be elevated toward the ceiling as her Madame extended her thighs outward, almost unfurling her to the air, demanding access. Sensations flooded every nerve as skin was bitten, licked, and sucked while fingers drove in and out, playing the curves of her like piano chords, splitting the notes that had her legs shaking.

                She was already far closer than intended as her Madame’s mouth slid lower, nibbling along the curve of her belly, inching closer.

                Renee had been gentle with her Madame, choosing to tantalize her with a skilled, need driven tongue but this was nearly the opposite approach as she made X patterns along her skin with the tip of her tongue. She gave the freshly marked backside a generously firm squeeze as she set her teeth against the folds of Renee’s pussy, darting her tongue up toward the throbbing bundle of nerves above. She wanted her to feel exactly how much she enjoyed teasing her as she avoided the spot, giving it just enough pressure to make her twitch, but not enough to be satisfying enough to finish the rising orgasm that was waiting at the edge. She jolted, pushing her pelvis forward against her Madame’s mouth, riding her fingers in the process and cried out again, this time toward the ceiling. There were no tangible words that she could make out as she gripped Renee’s ass a second time, pulling her down and up at the same time, positioning her to where the only way out of it was finishing.

                “I’m gonna…come,” Renee managed to grab a fistful of the pillow and held onto the headboard as she elevated off of the bed, her heels nearly piercing holes into the bedding as she pushed down. “Fuck!”

                Finally, she slid her tongue along Renee’s clit, dragging it slowly up then down while her fingers found that agonizing ridge inside of her that made every muscle finally spasm in unison. She held her breath and spilled over, the rush of blood leading straight to the spot that a mouth was still eagerly licking, fingering like she had something to prove. The quakes of her orgasm came in waves, over and over as the only free hand of her Madame gathered across her breasts, flicking at already tender nipples, making the intensity that much worse. Renee pulled her Madame by the wrist, directing her up to her mouth, tasting her own fluids on her lips as she slipped her tongue past her teeth. It wasn’t even a question that she wanted more of her and there were no objections as Renee’s fingers found the increasingly slick spot between her Madame’s legs.

                It was like the world had come crashing down as they were tangled in each other, mutually finding a rhythm within each other as they pushed each other’s buttons, played one another like a fiddle to the echo of music in the background as it played. They clung to the sweet spot, tapping into it like it were a drug as breaths staggered and limbs created heat with friction within the dimmed space. The heat could’ve set fire to the sheets as they both plunged deeper, filling more than a void as walls flexed and tightened, preparing for another moment of rapture. The connection was undeniable as they both built each other back up to a second climax while tongues danced, fingers became deliverers of pleasure, and body heat became mutually created as undulations became fluid, endless. They moved in unison, uninhibited and rampant until they made the bed start to shake underneath of them while they moaned into each other’s mouths.

                The smell of sex in the air was palpable along with the heavy breathing after both of them had finally come down from the delicious high that they’d taken each other to. The tangle of hair had mingled with the mess of sheets that were now saturated in sweat and fluids. Renee slid her arm across the midsection of the woman next to her as she breathed heavily behind her masquerade mask, the blush in her cheeks heavy as she glanced down at her. There was something brewing behind those eyes as Renee’s fingers climbed, teasing the still tender skin below a breast while she draped her leg across her Madame’s, intentionally rubbing wetness on her. The groan of disbelief came from her Madame as she looked up at her and covered a breast, squeezing it gently while she maintained eye contact with the far more dominant woman in slight protest.

                “I want to make the best of tonight while I can,” Renee started to reach for the mask, only to have her snatch her by the wrist with a little bit of roughness that had her frightened in an instant.

                “While you can?” Her voice shook as she pressed Renee’s hands against the bed and held her there, pinning her in that spot. “You can’t seriously mean you’re going back to your fiancé…am I hearing that correctly?”

                Renee swallowed hard, shaking her head as she couldn’t tell if this was her playing or not as she feverishly pulled at her trapped hands. “You knew back then that you couldn’t keep me and tonight was simply to feel that moment again, that’s it…I’m spending my life with him.”

                “Is that all this is to you? One last hurrah?” The bed shook with the boom of her voice as she rolled across Renee’s middle, putting an awkward amount of pressure on the spots that she had just cropped. “Twice bitten…just to leave your marks on my bed again so you can go running back to him? I don’t think so.”

                “You couldn’t believe that I’d throw away the last two years for something that went nowhere do you?” Renee was getting agitated as she shoved both shoulders up, but to no avail as she stifled her own panic as it started to rise. “Get off of me.”

                “Here I was thinking that you were different but you’re really just like the others,” Her left hand slid across Renee’s neck, gently rubbing the space below her chin as her right slid underneath of the pillow. “You gave me no alternative.”

                “What in the hell are you talking about?” Renee swatted at her hand and kicked both legs, not fully paying attention to the woman on top of her.

                The psychosis kicked in as the cat-o-nine tails moved across Renee’s neck in a quick snap as her green eyes pierced while she held it, pushing it down until the choking set in. “Is it perfectly clear yet, Kitten?”

 

 

_The distinction between sanity and insanity is narrower than a razor’s edge,_

_Sharper than a hound’s tooth, more agile than a mule deer._

_It is more elusive than the merest phantom._

_Perhaps it does not even exist; perhaps it is a phantom._

-Philip K. Dick, _Valis_

 

 

1:15 AM

Medical Examiner’s Office

 

                Scully’s scrubs already resembled a crime scene as she tilted her head back and felt the hollowed pop of her C1 through C7 in a solid line that blurred her vision for a half a second as she held onto the table’s edge. The groan followed as she pulled her goggles off and pressed stop on the recorder, the smell of death mingling unceremoniously with the chemical cleanliness of cold storage. This was not exactly how she’d imagined spending the wee hours of the night into Saturday morning but this was their life since taking cases of this nature. The knot in her stomach had taken shape and was pushing against her ribs, forcing the nausea and butterflies to mingle as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the shelf doors. She looked as tired, if not moreso, as she felt from the top of her head to her toes. The door squeaked and Mulder’s expectant face peered through the newly created gap in the doorway, setting into motion his usual, well-timed interruption. Scully managed to stay completely still with her eyes closed as the wave of exhaustion passed over her.

                “That usually makes you leap out of your skin while you say ‘Jesus, Mulder’,” Mulder walked in and found subtle relief in seeing four bodies shrouded by stained sheets from head to toe, the smell alone was profound enough to trigger a moderate gag. “Am I losing my touch?”

                “No, the door just gave away your attempt at another sneak attack,” Scully sighed in resignation and awkwardly stretched her arms forward, leaning toward the floor until her back popped loud enough that Mulder could hear it from the opposite side of the room. “I need a night on a rack…just yank on my arms and legs until my spine realigns.”

                “I don’t know if either of us has room for anything quite that kinky, Scully, but I’m sure if you ask nicely…” Mulder’s voice had a certain huskiness as he bridged the gap between them and nudged her as the rubber glove snap was loud enough to make him inhale sharp. “I could be convinced to put these big, strong hands to work on a pale, tired back.”

                Scully chuckled as she made eye contact with him, finding it redeeming he could make any kind of intimation about putting his hands on her with various spatter across the center front of her scrubs. “You know better than to tease me, G-Man.”

                “I would hope by now that you’d know that I’m a man of my word and many talents,” Mulder smirked and leaned against a cabinet full of supplies and sterilized instruments. “So, what’s the verdict, Doc?”

                “I don’t know how to explain it but the combination of these four bodies with the reports on the previous four almost paints a distinct picture of a Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, split it right down the middle, potential killer,” Scully thumbed through her handwritten notes and glanced at each page, eyes scanning while she summarized. “The preciseness of each kill indicates vast similarities in the patterning of the cause of death to be indicative of a singular assailant but the severity of injuries changes between each victim—even between the genders.”

                “Are you talking inconsistencies?” Mulder had his own theory that he was holding close to the vest as he peeked at the open file from the two prior autopsy sets, thumbing through photographs of the victims along with their reports. “Or deviations from the original set of parameters?”

                “None of the above,” Scully raised an eyebrow as she pulled the sheet back on Mrs. Henderson and Mrs. Lennox, exposing them to their Y incisions before pulling another set of fresh gloves. “Mrs. Lennox has considerably less bruising around her slashing as well as in the area where the needle was inserted whereas the markings on Mrs. Henderson are dark, deep, and had me second guessing the possibility of whether or not we have a second perpetrator.”

                “The talent of pulling off four sets of killings in an identical fashion by two different people would be awfully spectacular, Scully,” Mulder blinked and watched her sidestep as she stood closer to the table with Mrs. Henderson on it.

                “Talented and rare,” Scully smirked, her brilliance captivating him enough to have him rolling his eyes as he sucked in a weak breath.

                Mulder nodded in slow refrain, watching her every move as though she were conducting the entire orchestra. “Putting it mildly.”

                Mulder knew that look all too well. It was that ‘I’m about to blow your mind and destroy every theory you’ve got brewing in that head of yours’ little, mousy grin that she gave him at least twice a day that drove him batty. Scully shrugged her shoulders and pushed her tongue between her teeth along her cheek, raising both eyebrows as she set her notes onto the counter and exposed Mrs. Henderson’s arm to the open air. Mulder was intrigued, now, as he came around to the same side and crossed his arms while Scully tilted her head and angled their murder victim’s palm up just enough to show the tips of her fingers a little better, holding it out to him like a cat would toy with a mouse prior to eating it.

                “Taking a closer look at the body of Mrs. Henderson, she had enough bruising to more than aim at some hidden anger from a previously somber attack toward the female spectrum of victims,” Scully was rocking against her heels and halfway bouncing in the process, inviting the smirk on Mulder’s face with every word. “Split…personality…disorder.”

                “We agreed not to use phrases that might trigger the blood flow to my lower extremities,” Mulder tilted his head and nodded at Scully, widening his smile as he kept his back against the cool steel. “Something tells me you’re not done making me look like an amateur tonight, Scully, so why don’t you skip to the chase?”

                “Your facial expressions alone were making it more than a little interesting but if you insist,” Scully handed Mulder a small, rounded magnifying glass and aimed it at Mrs. Henderson’s fingertips. “If you look very closely, you’ll notice that our latest victim took a little souvenir with her before she died.”

                “The particulates under her nails were epithelial cells from her killer,” Mulder didn’t respond as though it were a question but rather a hunch confirmed as he looked at the little bits of discoloration underneath of the victim’s fingernails, complete with a jagged, uneven break to the tip of the index. “She dug deep enough to break one of her own nails.”

                “She fought her restraints and made certain that there’d be a piece of her killer to be able to reasonably conduct a search on,” Scully slid Mrs. Henderson’s arm back underneath of the sheet and removed her gloves, glancing at the two female victims. “My concern, though, is that the bleach used on each of these victims degraded the genetic materials to the point that I don’t know if there was enough of an eliminating sample left for Max to run tests on.”

                “This is kind of his area of expertise and if anyone is going to be able to narrow it down, it’ll be Maximus,” Mulder knew the kind of worry that this case was inflicting on Scully, adding to the already mountainous pile of trepidation surrounding the man that had nearly killed her six months ago.

                Scully held her breath, staring into the abyss as enervation rippled through her, reminding her of the escalation of stress as it was building. “I sent those samples with him nearly three hours ago and he hasn’t come in here with that cheeseball grin on his face like he always does, spout off his findings, and show off exactly how smart he is in front of everyone. I can’t say that doubt isn’t starting to pry into my every thought…especially after examining two and re-examining the previous couple.”

                “I know where your brain is wandering,” Mulder watched with a level of helplessness that he recollected feeling more than once in their recent history, inflicting another notch of frustration as he fanned his fingers out along the thin edge of the shelf. “You can’t think about the possibility of Miles getting out of a prison cell right now. It only leads to a dark place.”

                “We’re already in a dark place,” Scully used the wadded up gloves that she had just removed to re-cover the faces of Mrs. Lennox and Mrs. Henderson, her own eyes drifting thoughtfully over both of them until they were hidden away completely. “If I don’t think about him when I’m awake then he’ll be invading every dream that I have and the nightmares he creates are more than I can imagine—and they’d just begun to fade.”

                “I can handle every one of your nightmares, Scully, without a single moment of hesitation or worry,” Mulder had an idea that she was more concerned with herself but doing it alone shouldn’t have been on her mind with him at her side.

                “I know you can,” Scully met gazes with him and let the vulnerability shine as she sighed audibly. “…But I can’t.”

                Miles had taken a toll on Scully’s psyche in ways that couldn’t be described and her intestinal fortitude was waning as the trial continued, as each day rolled on with a chance of her stalker going free. He had revoked something from their lives that was precious and fragile to recover—peace of mind. That notion delicately hung in the balance even as they worked tirelessly on every assignment that followed in spite of every attempt to get through it. Returning to normal wasn’t just for Scully’s benefit; it was for Mulder’s as well. The discussion was moot and they’d had it too often to really continue exerting energy without realizing that they’d been giving in, letting it exacerbate the already tumultuous situation that surrounded the trial.

                The best of intention had deviated into finding anything to hold onto.

                “You know how it went before, with Tooms and Pfaster,” Mulder was captivated by her as she turned toward the basin and extended her digits under hot, running water after removing her saturated scrub top. “I know that Miles outdid them in every sense but you have me right here—and I’m not going anywhere.”

                Scully was in danger of scrubbing her skin raw as she gritted her teeth and pushed another pump of the sterile soap into her hand even though she didn’t need more of it. “Mulder, I know revisiting what happened will never heal the wound but Miles came too close to violating every shred of my dignity…and had a gun in your mouth to use as leverage before he took me to that rooftop.”

                “Scully, stop,” Mulder pulled her hands out from under the running water and made eye contact with her, searching her face for a long moment. “The lengths that I would’ve gone to that day to get to you and get you back—limitless. Sometimes I wonder if you remember that part.”

                Scully held her breath and stared at his hands as they covered her own, the tears welling up in her eyes against her better judgment. “I do…and I know it. I never told you about the stairwell or the rooftop—I couldn’t.”

                  Mulder could’ve confessed a thousand times to Scully that his brain had been percolating steadily over the unknown since that day but he kept it inside, unwilling to push her further off the deep end to process it. His psychology background had been an ally up until this point in handling the sensitive topics, in knowing that her readiness was to be at her own pace, and that giving any control away was a choice that he didn’t take lightly. Scully’s eyes told the story of just how far this had been buried as he looked into her eyes; the little veins reddening with every blink as she tried to chase the tears away. It was time to confront their enemy in the form of a hidden, locked away memory that patience had finally been rewarded enough to chase. It wasn’t about saving her all over again but instead, being able to take away some of the burden and restore faith in knowing that light did exist at the end of the tunnel.

                Mulder was tentative in his movements as he wiped a single tear and let his hand linger along her cheek, holding that gaze like it was the only thing in the world keeping his heart beating. “You’ve been alone to battle that nightmare for long enough…I will never think less of you for anything that happened after that bastard took you from me again.”

                “It’s going to become part of the defense’s line of questioning, I’m sure, and I didn’t want to face the reality that I was disarmed not once, but twice, by a psychopath,” Scully took a deep breath, searching Mulder’s face like she had forgotten where she was as she glanced at the door for a long moment before continuing. “I tried to stall Miles to give you more time to get out of the cuffs—and there was a part of me that he was going to either throw me over the railing or finish taking away every last bit of my dignity; set a precedence for breaking an FBI Agent in an instant.”

                “I hope that you don’t think I wouldn’t have been able to hear this but I have one thing to say to you and I hope you listen carefully, Scully, because it’s important…” Mulder had already been astoundingly overwhelmed by the display of strength she possessed but the ingrained inability to think beyond weakness as a vice was often her Achilles heel.

                “I’m listening,” Scully felt Mulder’s determination flowing through her like a drug as she went weak at the knees, her calf muscles burning as she willed them to stay rigid.

                Mulder gave her fingers a gentle squeeze as he exhaled, his brows aiming toward the ceiling as the oxygen swirled through his nostrils. “I don’t believe for a second that you have ever been weak enough to be truly broken—and even if you were, it wouldn’t be for more than a moment. You possess more fire than anyone I’ve ever met and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

                “No matter how many times I tell myself that he didn’t accomplish that end, it was more than enough for me to know that he would have and he wasn’t planning on stopping…if Drea hadn’t interfered,” Scully pulled her hands free from his and turned the faucet off with a rough turn, gripping the edge of the sink while her heart thudded against her chest. “One day, not today, I’ll be able to feel that with as much conviction as you.”

                Mulder closed his eyes and thought hard as he rested his chin against her shoulder, bending just enough to be in her presence without fully enveloping her. “Thinking about what he didn’t do will only continue to haunt you more than what he did do and it serves only to drive you crazy. He doesn’t deserve that kind of impact…on either of us.”

                The passage of time had been cathartic but carried an amount of brittleness that managed to stop both of them in their tracks, leaving traces of a bitterness that lingered like metal against the palate. At least nothing had soured or gone the way of numbness, there was solace in that notion. Scully was silent, the relief of completing and conducting the examination of the victims largely alone really hitting her as she inhaled another breath. Mulder had felt the agitation brewing amongst the group since the twins had made their grand, drastically unnecessary entrance as a forced duo for this case. It had added to the already palpable list of issues that they were compiling—and now had to tiptoe around to keep from watching the explosives finally ignite before their very eyes. No one needed to worry about it but they were doing just that.

                They were each doing it for different, complicated reasoning.

                “The distance back to the ground every time I become consumed by thinking about everything I shouldn’t seems further and further every time—and you bring me right back down to safety like it’s nothing,” Scully squeezed his left hand as he embraced her from behind, the smell of his aftershave and body wash just barely standing up to the antiseptic smell that wafted through the air. “I don’t think I’ve ever met any man that didn’t make me look at my weaknesses as a vice.”

                “You sleep with an insomniac and manage to lull him into death sleep every night—I’d say any weakness you possess is more than acceptable when you can do that,” Mulder squeezed her and slowly separated from her, checking his watch and his phone for any missed calls. “All gifts have a curse attached to them, Scully.”

                The moment, in every bit of its tenderness, ended with swiftness as Mulder’s hip began to vibrate and the chime of his ringtone filled the room like an echo chamber. He fumbled with it, glanced at the name across the top, and nodded in Scully’s direction. Finality had come to them with one of the most annoying sounds in the world and the greenish glow of the screen that reflected against the glass doors of the cabinets behind Mulder. This was the call that they had been waiting for since Scully discovered the little bits of genetic material hanging on for dear life underneath of Mrs. Henderson’s fingernails. Scully already had a few theories swirling around in her mind that could’ve given Mulder a run for his money, she’d concluded, as he pressed the send key.

                “Please tell me you’ve got something good for us, Maximus,” Mulder was already hanging on the imminent words as he conceptualized the caseload that was stacked and growing while he watched Scully pace while removing her scrub bottoms from over her clothes. “If you have no news then you’d better just hang up and pretend like this never happened.”

                “There won’t be any need to hang up, Mulder,” Max’s voice was echoing nearly as bad as Mulder’s and the staggering sound of his printer made it that much more difficult to understand him. “I’ve got better than good if you want to come up here to check it out…the list is printing and I’m a little baffled over the result that I’ve been finding.”

                “List? Jesus, sounds like you have more than one genetic profile to come gloating to us about,” Mulder wrinkled his eyebrows at Scully, who seemed equally as confused as he was.

                “It’s a list because it wasn’t simply about the genetic material but about the unique set of chemical markers that were mingling around with it,” Max liked to give a just enough of a hint that had Mulder and Scully heavily intrigued, a notion that had the energy rising in his vocal intonation.

                “Well, we’ll be right up, then,” Mulder smirked in Scully’s direction as she double checked her clothes in the glass, her reflection barely visible against the instruments and bottles behind it.

                “Have him get a couple of cups of coffee so we can both be ready for the steady stream of words that are about to leave his mouth, “Scully glanced over her shoulder while she ran her fingers through her hair.

                “Oh, that’s a good idea…Max, coffee, please?” Mulder pulled Scully’s coat down from the hook next to the door while she pushed the order through the door slot to have all four bodies put back into cold storage.

                “I’ll do better than that—someone left cocoa packets in the coffee station, white trash mochas coming right up,” Max was half-muffled as he shifted the phone from one side of his head to the other, the antsy, borderline hyperactivity rearing its ugly head. “See you in a few minutes.”

                Mulder hung up the call and slid the phone back into his pocket as Scully turned to slip into her coat, the heavy footsteps of personnel gathering just outside of the room. Mulder pulled the door toward them just in time to see the weary smile from the first scrub-clad techs pushing gurneys. Routine had been interrupted and they were the last people that any of the busy, sleep deprived technicians really wanted to see at this time of night. The space was hardly large enough for all of them as they abruptly stopped, pressed their lips together and ushered the pair out, knowing that time was of the essence. Scully nodded at the first two as they went in to make the first of four, seamless transitions to the larger section where bodies were kept.

                “I’ll make sure all of them have their correct tags and we’ll place them with the previous four victims, keep everyone as organized as possible,” the tech at the rear with the stitched name ‘Alcott’ made eye contact with Scully, her hair pulled back in a neat, tight bun, the remnants of curls at the base of her neck.

                “Are all of you finishing your Quantico hours?” Scully could see the deep, telling dark circles under her eyes as she crossed her arms.

                “We have less than ten hours left each…I’m the lead tech and I have to make sure that they do this right so if you’ll excuse me, Ma’am…Sir,” She was sheepish but determination was written on her face as she gave a singular nod in both of their direction before pushing forward, into the room.

                “I’m imagining that you’d look like that during the final stretch of the Academy,” Mulder chuckled as they kept walking toward the elevator, earning an elbow to his ribs.

                Scully reached out and pressed the up arrow while giving Mulder a sideways scowl. “Medical techs are serious about procedurals—although, she would’ve given me a run for my money even when I look back at how intense I was about it.”

                “You’re trying to tell me that you were less intense than they are?” Mulder furrowed his eyebrows as the elevator dinged followed by the delayed reaction of the hoist sliding into place jarring them just a little.

                “I got all of that out of my system in medical school and I’m certain that every moment I spent in Quantico was so much easier as a result,” Scully followed him out of the elevator, reminiscing about a time she hadn’t thought about in a while. “Earned me more than a few dirty stares from other Agents in my training class…now that I think about it.”

                “They’d be thanking their lucky stars their route was difficult or they’d end up chasing the skies with Spooky Mulder,” Mulder wiggled his eyebrows at her as they came around the corner, nearing the hum of a printer at the only brightly lit office with the door wide open.

                Scully snorted and rubbed her lips together, the blush forming across her cheeks as she glanced at him, coyly grinning as the words started. “I don’t know, Spooky Mulder has a few interesting talents that have certainly made those chases all the more worthwhile, to say the very least…and I wouldn’t want anyone else knowing that but me.”

                “I swear to Christ I will drop kick you across a room if you spit out another blank page, you piece of hot crap,” Max’s voice carried from down the hall, the testy tone preceded a loud bang, a signature sound of his palm smacking the side of a printer. “Knock it off.”

                The wee hours were wearing on patience for each member of their team in a unique, mildly unhinged sort of way as the seams began to split. Mulder’s knowing glance met Scully’s as they paused just feet from the doorway, concern blending with amusement, the same level of weariness written across both of their faces that emanated from inside of the small, well-lit office. The printer stuttered and resumed a hum that only clashed with Max’s lassitude driven sigh that blended perfectly with the drawn-out squeak of his chair as his backside met it. His chin met his palm, elbow rested against the arm of the chair and the momentum carried him in a counterclockwise motion until he could see their shoes in the doorway.

                Max hadn’t looked this worn out in a long time, and as a matter of fact, they couldn’t remember the last time he looked this strung out.

                “Having a rough night?” Mulder waited until Max’s chin tilted up and his eyes weren’t plastered toward the floor.

                “Define rough—it could mean so many things these days,” Max forced a cheesy grin and reached for their cups of coffee and chocolate mixture, his hands half shaking with every move of his muscles. “White trash mochas, as promised.”

                “How many of those have you had?” Scully couldn’t help but take note of his caffeine driven ticks buried underneath a layer of pure readiness for sleep as she entered his less organized than usual space. “What did you do to your office?”

                “I haven’t had nearly enough but more than usual…so too many,” Max squinted as he rifled through a growing stack of papers, glancing at the no longer alphabetized and color-coded sections of his cabinetry. “I went looking for exactly one document and chaos ensued. I’ll fix it when I can think for longer than exactly eighty-seven seconds.”

                “You need to go home, shower, and sleep,” Mulder was watching the anal-retentive, hyper-focused individualism mesh with a near opposition, overwound and wrapped tightly much like he had been in his earlier days. “If you don’t get some rest this office is going to look like a tornado blew through it.”

                “So…like ours?” Scully sipped the mocha mixture and peered over the edge of the Styrofoam cup at Mulder, knowing full well that he hadn’t thought that far.

                “That was a low blow, Scully,” Mulder shot her a sideways glance after taking a healthy swig of the hot, caffeine-laced liquid.

                “As much as the pseudo-awkward parenting from you two is appreciated, it isn’t necessary,” Max held the paperwork in one hand while his other reached for a half-full bottle of water resting on the edge of the desk, his eyes scanning the document. “Running on empty isn’t in my plan, especially with the only tangible lead in my hand.”

                “Lay it on us, Maximus,” Mulder leaned against the only clean countertop in the room and watched Scully in his peripheral as she leaned against the table that held the printer.

                “Single subject epithelial cells, genetic trace match confirm human DNA. Not enough to confirm specific gender, but I was expecting that,” Max flipped the page and glanced at both of them, a smirk curving on his lips as he sat up straight and crossed his leg, widely placing his calf across his thigh. “What this machine is still spitting out is an ingredient list…that started to look very typical until these items popped out.”

                Mulder took the page from Max’s outstretched hand and made an odd face as he read them aloud, his eyebrows aiming a little further toward the tip of his nose. “Grasse jasmine, Bulgarian rose, pink rose, ylang-ylang, michelia, tuberose, perfumers’ alcohol...what in the flying fuck?”

                “Scully, you’ve got to have an idea of what that is judging by the look on your face,” Max had the Cheshire cat grin plastered on his face as he leaned against the back of his chair, earning another loud squeak of the mechanism again.

                “There are only a handful of perfumes out there with that exact composition and if I’m right about the shit-eating grin on your face,” Scully crossed her arms and thought hard about her answer as she moved her eyes from Max to Mulder then back again. “It’s one of the most expensive perfumes in the world and only a select number of people are going to have something like that in their possession, let alone be wearing it while they are on a killing spree.”

                “So, a rich asshole with ample retrieval for funds and acreage is our murderer?” Mulder hadn’t really thought about the socio-economic status of the killer but the ideal clicked into place as his glances finally met hers. “Access to each of the victims would be considerably easier for someone of equal or higher social standing and not one of our couples thus far were exactly hurting for status.”

                “Getting a hold of a list of the perfumes that match this specific composition will be easy but I suspect it’s the one sitting at the upper echelon of them and the company does not sell more than 50 bottles of the limited edition bottles of the original scent,” Max glanced at the photograph of Drea next to his computer monitor and placed both feet firmly on the floor. “Dating someone who deals with a lot of weird requests for home buyers has created random trivia for expensive things that rich clients might request.”

                “I don’t suppose that we have the ability to find out how old the perfume is?” Scully had the cup up by her mouth, her foot tapping against the floor as she the curiosity burned.

                “I can set that test to run through the morning on the alcohol sample but I can’t promise anything,” Max was already putting away some of the chaos that is a lapse in disorganization had inflicted on his office. “There might not be enough of the sample to get a definitive but that would narrow it down.”

                “Now that we have a solid lead, which one of you is going to volunteer to call our lead investigator to give her the good news?” Scully tilted her head as she finished her mocha, tossing the empty cup into the nearby wastebasket.

                “Do I have to be polite?” Max was re-organizing a section of files, putting them back into their correct area as he glanced back at both of them.

                “Would she really expect you to fake it?” Mulder shrugged his shoulders, still nursing the cup of chocolate and coffee between his fingers.

                “You two are ridiculous…I’ll be the diplomat and do it.”

 

 

_You think I’m psycho_

_You think I’m gone_

-Unknown

 

2:30 AM

Watergate at Landmark Condominiums

Alexandria, VA

 

                Drea rattled the keys in the door to the sixteenth-floor condo, balancing a stack of mail under her arm along with several rolls of multi-colored laces and a book full of wallpaper swatches. The delicate act of maintaining stability without dropping the contents of her purse has the less-than-cooperative key in her hand shaking as she manages to shove the door open, the clang of the stopper bringing it to a half thud against the wall behind it. She mutters ‘steady now’ under her breath as the rolls of lace slip and her chin drags forward, holding it against her collarbone as her shoulder gropes for the nearest light switch in the darkened living space.

                “Could’ve taken multiple trips from the car to the mail room but…no, I had to go and be a stubborn ass and haul it all up in one, long trip and get nasty looks in the hallway after dropping everything not once but _twice_ ,” Drea slid around the small entry, the glow of the city lights resonating from below through the two foot opening in the curtains.

                The ambient hum of electronics on standby and the refrigerator in the kitchen clashed with the sound of Drea’s keys as she slid them into the decorative, glass dish next to the entry. She kicked the door shut, louder than intended, and squinted as the sound echoed through the room while she groped her way to the dining table to the right. The condo was still a mess, with packed and half-packed boxes still strewn about in random rooms that told a story of a mixed together partiality of two lives coming together while still seeming so much like two passing ships in the night. Drea pushed the weight of the items in her arms onto the tabletop, dropping half of the mail onto the floor into the process,  and reached for the dimmer switch for the soft, decorative chandelier above the center of the table. She only turned the lights to half brightness and leaned to retrieve the stack of mail from the tile.

                “Junk…junk…I’ll read that later…welcome to the neighborhood…Letter from the girls that I’ll read when I’ve poured a glass of wine…” Drea separated the mail into individual stacks while stepping out of her heels, paying little attention to the mess she was making. “I’ve successfully made a bigger mess of the room already in disarray.”

                Drea was overdressed in a knee-length skirt and chemise top that had a light, cardigan with three-quarter sleeves, her hair busting free from the ballerina bun atop her head, affixed by at half a dozen clips. She pulled each one free while she cradled the small stack of letters, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling sliding door to pull the curtains all the way open. The moon’s bright light illuminated the high balcony as she slid the door open to allow the cool breeze in while she palmed the last of the clips, shaking her hair out until it touched the center of her back. Drea tossed the mail onto the middle of the couch, slid the cardigan off and tossed over the back of a nearby easy chair, exposing the top portion of her scars to the air as the back of her chemise dipped low along her shoulders. Her eyes lingered over the clock on the wall behind the couch as the breeze hit her while she stretched her arms high, groaning audibly.

                She should’ve been home three hours ago and the lingering ache behind her optic nerve exacted just how long her day had been.

                Drea melted into the couch, sliding her nylon covered feet across the carpet as she opened the first envelope, blindly pulling the contents as she tilted her neck from side to side. It was filled with six pages of lined paper that had her reminiscing of college, complete with fingerprints and palm prints of smudged ink along the margins and at the top of the page. The smell of ink wafted through the air along with the sour note of sweat and a distinct note of tin that she felt, remembered, and wanted out of her nostrils with immediacy. She sat up and turned the side table lamp on, crossed her legs and blinked slowly as her eyes focused on the top of the page. The words drew her in like a kick to the gut with a certain urgency as the salutation had her skin crawling.

                ‘Hello Little Sister’ written in blue ink, the handwriting messy, varied between standard print and sloppy cursive—the greeting belonged to only one individual and the entire notion of knowing he knew how to find her stopped her heart.

                Drea dropped the papers on the floor, her voice trembling with every utterance, her left hand desperately reaching for the phone. “No, no, no, no…fuck, no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this has taken SO long to finish – I have been so busy with work and, as you can see, this one is so much longer (and covers a myriad of topics). Thanks are in order for Monika and Cate, who have been reading portions of this, who have been encouraging me, and have kept me from giving up.
> 
> Quotes by:  
> Lord Byron  
> David Bowie & Giorgio Moroder (Lyrics from “Cat People”)  
> Philip K. Dick, Valis  
> Unknown quote
> 
> All medical details were researched and checked, if I have missed the boat on any, please let me know (My parents are medics so I always double check my information with them).
> 
> I’ll name the expensive perfume in the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for being so patient in waiting for the first chapter – yes, it’s a long one but it had so much to cover and recap. The amount of support that I have gotten since I’ve begun this journey has been incredible. Stay tuned for chapter two.
> 
> Mentioned: The Manson family murders - yes, they really DID carve things into victims, look it up.
> 
> Thank you, Jun, for mentioning the embolism...I'll be bugging you later.
> 
> A special thank you to Skye Moon (Miss Lee, let her know, please) – you are the inspiration for the pretty little thing in the beginning of the chapter and YES, she is in chapter two.


End file.
